Orientation
by Rose Eclipse
Summary: Christine Chapel's origin story from frosty Minnesota to the world of Starfleet Academy. The saga of how she earns her place aboard the Enterprise and the people she meets at the crossroads. Based on the new film. Rated for mild language.
1. Chapter 1

The young woman's feet came to a sliding halt just before a round of applause rose up from the audience. The sky was steely gray and fat flakes whizzed in the air but the stadium lights flooded the arena with light.

"_Number 18 from Minnesota, North America scores middle range," _an announcer's voice blared over the stadium.

The audience watched the slim pale figure skate over to the judges' box and bend her head forward in respect. One of them pinned an Orengian flower on her tunic as a symbol of good sportsmanship. She touched the large purple blossom in one hand while the other waved faintly out to the audience.

The Intergalactic Winter Solace Festival was a tremendous event that drew in visitors from around the galaxy but never had they imagined the shy unknown human from a corner of world would stand on the rink and perform in the skating competition. She had no professional training or elite social privileges to stand out at the start of the festival but the graceful footwork on the ice had impressed the judges.

While the other contestants lavished in the praise of the audience, the young woman had quietly slipped away back to the training room to change into her street clothes. She was almost done when she noticed a dark figure in the doorway. He stepped closer and the flash of silver on his chest reflected against the lights.

She recognized the attire of a Starfleet officer and quickly rose out of respect but Christopher Pike lifted a hand in the hair casually to dismiss the formalities.

"Congratulations on your honorary award, Ms. Chapel. You did very well out there."

The frankness of his voice and confidence in his stature took the fidgets out of the shy girl. "I didn't know Starfleet participated in the Festival," she murmured softly. "But I hope you enjoyed it."

"It's been a pleasure after having drills all week." Pike took a seat on the low bench across the girl named Ms. Chapel and studied her while she continued to fiddle with her skates. Realizing his cool gray eyes were still fixated upon her, Christine unknotted the laces and stood up.

"Is there something else you wanted to know, sir?"

"Yes, there is as a matter of fact." Pike kept his hands clasped together. "Starfleet has been surveying academic reports across the Midwest this semester including the Minneapolis District-and your educational background."

Pale eyebrows arched up in surprise. "Why does Starfleet want to know?"

"Because Starfleet is looking for new recruits." Captain Pike rose from his seat and walked over to Christine. "I'm offering you a scholarship to the San Francisco Academy with all student liberties included."

The slender hands that cradled her winning purple flower trembled in surprise at his generous offer. "M-me? Why me?"

Pike shrugged as a half-smile graced his face. "Why not? You're a smart kid, you have straight marks in Biomedics and Space Health Studies, and you just spun across freezing ice. I'd say you qualify as much as any other candidate."

Christine's mind swiftly calculated the pros and cons of Pike's offer. Starfleet had never crossed her mind. Her life had been a simple one after pulling through a fatal disease at the age of six. Since then she had been a quiet but diligent student with occasional skating for a hobby and a desire to help others.

Christine was skeptical about Starfleet. She had seen several cadets at the start of the Winter Festival. They were all loud noisy people in bright red uniforms with big brash attitudes. They'd take one look at her stringy hair and a pasty complexion, both results of the Proxi-Atom virus, and step on her with their shiny black boots, laughing all the way.

_A Federation academy isn't the sort of place to find friends_, she thought to herself.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," she replied while glancing down at her toes.

"Why not?"

"I..." her voice grew low and uneasy while she fiddled for an explanation. "I got sick when I was a child."

"I know about the Proxi-Atom virus," Captain Pike spoke up. "And there's no need to be ashamed of it. You're very brave to survive something like that and I'm sure it would make you a worthwhile candidate for active duty."

"It's not that," Christine defended herself. She tried to fold her arms over her chest in an attempt to feign confidence.

"Then what is it?" Captain Pike's voice was ever-so-polite but unwavering as he waited for an answer. "Don't you think you've got the academics needed to become a cadet?"

"No, I mean yes!" She nodded her head quickly. "I'm sure I can pass any courses you give me. But I'm..."

Christine swallowed the bile in her throat while one finger nervously twirled a lock of wispy blonde hair. "Just look at me, Captain Pike. I'm not exactly fit for duty."

It sounded like a foolish thing to be worried about but truth be told, physical appearances would always play a part in judging a person's character.

Whenever she looked into the mirror and saw the painfully thin young woman with sharp cheekbones and icy blue eyes, Christine would shudder inside. It was alarming how one virus could deplete so much life from a person. The taunting remarks of more attractive girls and muscled boys did nothing for her self-confidence. She would dismiss her looks as bad luck and retreat back into her studies and skating.

Christopher Pike, on the other hand, had become acquainted with many people during extensive career as a Starfleet captain. His second insight could perceive those rare individuals overlooked by social peers. He noticed that her blue eyes were large, gentle, and full of compassion. The small pink mouth did not seem to smile often but he suspected she could smile beautifully when she tried. Bony knees and arms could always be fleshed out with proper nutrition and exercise. And sunshine could warm more than an apprehensive visitor's heart.

"We receive candidates from all over the world, Miss Chapel," Pike replied. "Starfleet is not an institution to judge a person based on looks or origins. I know you can rise above that."

He placed a hand on her slim shoulder. "Humility is an admirable trait but lack of self-confidence isn't good for you. The west coast could restore what was once lost."

Perhaps it was his tone of voice but something about his sincerity caused the corners of Christine's mouth to start pulling up. Maybe the thoughts of California sunshine or sparkling bay waters where beginning to tempt her. Or maybe it was just the wisp of confidence she needed to hear after years of being isolated and shunned from society.

"You're serious. You think I can do it?" she asked wistfully.

"I don't think you can. I _know_ you can. Whether or not you believe in yourself is your choice, Ms. Chapel."

He handed her a small crystal-infused disk. "There's a shuttle craft leaving Pittsburgh in two weeks. Bring basic identification and medical information with you."

She took the card from her with slim fingers and turned it over thoughtfully. Inside was a holo-vision with Starfleet history and basic regulations.

As Pike turned to go, he glanced over his shoulder with a wry grin. Christine thought he might say something but he didn't, just gave her a knowing nod. There was the padding sound of boot steps marching off…and then he was gone.

A-A-A

The Proxi-Atom virus had finally been conquered years ago thanks to a cure by Federation scientists. Unfortunately, the victory was too late to save Christine's parents and left her one of several survivors from the epidemic crisis. The 5-year-old girl was quickly whisked away to the largest sanctuary house in the Midwest where she could recover and be provided for.

Most 23rd century sanctuary houses were defined as public education homes and dormitories for unfortunate orphans and delinquents. But the name resonated back to earlier times when outcast humans found solitude and tranquility within the walls of religious institutions. Such was the case of Christine Chapel. Twice when she was seven years old a private agency had attempted to place her up for adoption. But even though she was no longer contagious no one would take her in for fear of the virus.

Christine didn't mind while she was growing up. The Federation financed the basic needs of their home but a local donor had generously donated a bulk of his estate to the development of their sanctuary house. Their home now boasted an indoor heated swimming pool, ice skating rink, two libraries, a greenhouse for botany lessons, and an electromagnetic telescope for examining the night sky. There were no set regulations for religious or spiritual beliefs but they did have mediation sessions and occasions to mark popular holidays. Whether busy in studies or playing sonic soccer in the recreation center, the children were well-cared for and provided by a superb staff.

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" A lithe brown-haired girl came skipping down the hallway to where Christine had just arrived and was sitting inside the lounge. She began tugging on the older girl's skirt excitedly. "Christine, you got them, didn't you? I knew you would!"

Christine unwound the scarf from her neck and pulled off her cap revealing ears that were hard and red from the cold. "I'll let you see them but just be careful with them, Amber." The little girl bobbed her head up and down obediently.

Christine gently laid a heavy case on the table for Amber to examine before unhinging the clasps and opening it up. By now several other children in green tunics had come running into the lounge to examine her prize.

The top candidates of the Intergalactic Winter Solace Festival had each been granted a pair of custom-made skates as a token of acknowledgment to their talent. Christine was especially proud of the exquisitely designed achromatic metal blades and Andorian leather gracing the boots. Turning them over with one hand, Amber studied the Parthian crystals adorning the heels and Christine's name printed on the skates in permanent vision-ink.

"So cool," gushed little Barry. "Can I try 'em on?"

"I don't think they'll fit," Christine smiled at him. But she let him peel off his socks and slip his feet into the skates. His ankles wobbled loosely when he tried to stand up, causing everyone to burst into giggles of pleasure.

The steady clap of hands broke their get-together. Erica Donovan, their staff director, was calling everyone in for dinner. The quick mention of pumpkin flan on the menu caused the children to quickly shuffle into line and depart quickly. Once the children were preoccupied tucking away their food Mrs. Donovan approached Christine in the mediation room.

She found the young woman sitting on a mat with a lavender scarf wrapped around her head and face. Christine's chin was upturned to the windows while her mind was deep in thought.

The most striking features inside the room were the vibrant panels of bright blue glass infused into the walls. Their donor had been an admirer of the 20th century artist Marc Chagall and fitted the mediation room with a perfect replica of Chagall's renowned windows, a mesmerizing collage of sapphire-like pieces dotted with symbols such as trees and candelabras in white or yellow glass.

So many times Christine had starred at the labyrinth of beautiful blue pieces and found internal peace. Now she felt discontented after starring at the same shapes and colors year after year.

Mrs. Donovan took a seat on the mat next to Christine. She placed a similar scarf around her head and waited for a few contemplative moments before addressing the young woman.

"We had a visit by Starfleet last week. And the children were hysterical until they could see real officers up in the flesh." Her brief chuckling was cut short when she glanced at Christine's unsatisfied face. "I presume you ran into Captain Christopher Pike at the Festival. We gave him a glowing report of your academics."

Christine's gaze flickered to Mrs. Donovan. "He said they'll take me in."

"I'm not surprised." Mrs. Donovan waited for a response but when there was none she took the initiative. "Do you want to go to Starfleet, Christine?"

"Yes...and no." Her voice wavered slightly. Mrs. Donovan watched Christine wrap her arms around herself defensively. Wispy white eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, releasing a melancholy sigh.

"No one ever wanted to adopt me as a child," she confessed to her guardian." I've never had a family outside this home. What if Starfleet is just another disappointment?"

"There are thousands of students in Starfleet so your chances of finding a kindred spirit are very likely," Mrs. Donovan assured her. "And besides, the world has changed much in the last several years. Who knows what you might find there?"

When Christine continued to rock back and forth on the mat with uncertainty, Mrs. Donovan firmly rested a hand on her slim shoulder. The attentive gesture was noticed by the student.

"Look at those windows, my dear. They were created by a brilliant Russian painter who fled his country during World War II. He had to start his life over again in a new country but he always remained true to himself. Despite the turmoil in his life, Marc Chagall continued to inspire millions of people and never relinquished his identity. He was an artist. His legacy continues to thrive through his masterpieces."

Mrs. Donovan fixed her eyes upon Christine who was now paying close attention to her words.

"You can travel to the stars and back or stay right here. You can be rich enough to own an entire planet or have just a small plot of land on Earth. But knowing who you are and taking pride in your accomplishments is the most noble of all prospects, Christine."

She gathered up her pale green robes and began to leave the mediation room. She hesitated in the doorway and glanced back at Christine. "Whoever you chose to become Christine, you must know that you have so much to offer this world…as well as other worlds."

The instructor's words had left an impression on the young woman. Christine picked up the prize skates that lay on another mat and ran her hand over the smooth leather material. She could sell them for a decent amount and take up a hospital course in the city. Or compete in Norway next year.

But what was next? Take up skating forever and go back to ice and snow? Continue reading books and adoring the skates? Sit in the mediation rooms of the sanctuary house and admire the sunlight streaming through the crystalline windows for hours?

She hugged the prize skates to her chest and rocked back and forth in thought. It was a terrifying prospect for a girl who had never been further west than the Mississippi River. The thought of a new city with bright lights and loud noises could drive even the most serene person out of their wits.

Christine gazed back at the windows wistfully.

A-A-A

_Two weeks later in __Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania_

The female security officer was being, to put it bluntly, a bitch. Despite pleas and protests, she wouldn't let the blonde aboard the shuttle. And she was holding up a line of other cadets waiting not-so-patiently to get off the damn dried grassy field and back to California.

"No food or beverages are permitted aboard the aircraft," the security officer barked.

"You nuts or something?" the blonde spit back. "It's two hours to San Francisco and I get _really_ nauseous if I don't eat."

"Take a bucket," came the answer. "Either that or get out of line, Ms. Rand."

Grumbling to herself, Janice Rand forked over her biscuit bar. With a rather tearful look, she watched the luscious bit of buttery baked goodness get pocketed by the security officer. Janice hoped it would give her a rash.

She bent her head low to avoid collision with a metal beam when entering the shuttle and dropped herself into a seat. It really was like cramming sardines into a can, judging by the amount of cadets already strapped in. Janice squirmed in place while fiddling with her hair, an arrangement of four thick yellow braids wrapped stylishly around her head.

"You had a Philly Cheesesteak before we got here, Rand. What gives? You pregnant or something?" joked a fellow officer.

"Shut up, Ben," she snapped before throwing a pin at him. Janice shoved the buckle compartments together across her waist with more force than necessary. The last she wanted was to go flying across the shuttle and collide with Ben when they took off.

The officer attending to the cadets was about to close the doors when she spotted one last red figure running, or at least trying to run, across the field towards them. She was so slender that the officer wouldn't be surprised if a gust of wind blew her down.

"I'm here! I'm here!" Christine came to a halt in front of the aircraft and gasped for breath. Her precious skates and some other sentimental items were safe in the canvas bag strapped over her right shoulder. It had weighed her down considerably but she wasn't going to Starfleet without at least a few possessions from the world she was leaving behind.

She was wearing her new cadet uniform, a harsh red sweater and matching skirt complete with knee-high black boots. It was the smallest size they could find to fit her skinny waist based on the measurements she had sent to the uniform department. The collar made her neck itch fiercely but she didn't mind how it felt just so long as she was on that shuttle.

Christine handed her identification cards to the officer who quickly looked her name up on a PADD. She glanced and for a brief moment, nodded in approval. "Go on ahead."

Ben, who had been preoccupied with teasing Janice, now had his attention fixed on the new girl who was fidgeting herself into one of the last seats in the shuttle. She was kind of pretty in a delicate sort of way...but a little too shrimpy for his tastes. Nevertheless he couldn't resist a smart wink in her direction when she looked at him.

Christine's cheeks flamed up, causing him to laugh. She quickly fiddled with the straps across her waist and tugged her skirt down, hoping it would cover her knees. It didn't. The commotion caused Janice to glance her way.

"_Trembling like a leaf and pale as a ghost._ _Poor kid_,"she thought.

The officer slid the shuttle door shut with a loud ear-vibrating _**BANG**_ just before it rose from the ground.

The shuttle took off with a lurch that almost caused Christine to scream. Higher and higher the shuttle climbed into the sky while the blood began to drain from her face. Her hands tried to firm up into tight fists but were too shaky to do anything. She began to see dark spots flicker in front of her face as her head rolled heavily off to—

_CLUNK!_

"_Uh oh_," Janice thought. "_Not a good sound_." She looked over to see what had caused the commotion: the skinny blonde's head had hit a side bar and she was now slumped forward in her seat.

Janice leaned over and spoke in a loud clear voice, "Something wrong, miss?"

Christine's head jutted back agains the seat when the shuttle shivered to the right. Her eyelids fluttered uneasily and she mumbled incoherently.

"Hey hey, give her some air!" Ben shouted. He reached above his head to turn on the inset fan. The blowing breeze fanned Christine's brow and flicked strands of hair off her face. She moaned and lifted fluttering eyes up to the sudden newcomers who had surrounded her. Ben was wrestling to get his jacket off while Janice fumbled through her pockets.

"You okay, kid?" Ben inquired.

Christine's eyes fluttered as her vision and senses slowly began to return to focus. She managed a weak smile. "I'll be fine. I guess I'm not used to these aircrafts." A loud gurgle escaped from her stomach.

"I think a drink or two could actually improve you," Ben suggested. Glancing around to be certain the pesky officer wasn't in sight, he nudged Janice. "Got any vodka on you?" he whispered.

"Just this." Almost by magic, Janie produced a small aluminum bottle from somewhere on her body and handed it to Christine. Her fumbling fingers managed to unscrew the cap before bringing it to her lips. Cool wet water touched her parched lips, trickling down her throat. Christine swallowed down two mouthfuls before looking back at Janie.

Janice nodded at her. "Finish it all. You'll feel better."

Grateful, Christine tipped her head back and finished the rest of the water. "Thanks," she said as she handed the bottle back to Janie. She wiped a stray drop drop off her chin with the back of her sleeve.

A quick glance out the window assured her they were already reaching the appropriate altitude as puffy white clouds drifted past the shuttle. Even the bumpy takeoff has smoothed into a calmer journey, though she had to strain to hear voices above the roar of the engine.

Ben nudged Janice in the ribs. "What other naughty secrets do you have hiding on you, Rand?"

"Can it, Benjy boy."

"Don't call me that!'

"Benjy boy! Benjy boy!"

The verbal battle made Christine recall pillow fights in the Sanctuary House and she smiled inwardly to herself. Feeling much better now, she watched the other blonde fold her arms back over her head and glanced up at the ceiling.

"Agh, another hour and three quarters stuck in one of these metal cans. I'll go mad." Her gaze shifted back to Christine before declaring her name. "Name's Rand, by the way. Janice Rand. From New York City."

"Benjamin Harrero. Miami Beach."

"Christine Chapel," she said between apple bites. "Minnesota."

Ben and Janice exchanged looks. "Cool," Ben said at last. "What courses do you think you wanna take? I'm gonna grind gears into my head but damnit if I'm not an engineer on a starship there'll be hell to pay!'

"Basic operations," Janice announced. "And hyperdrive channeling."

"I'm not sure yet," Christine said slowly. "I was thinking of galactic medics."

Ben shifted dark brown eyes back to Christine. "You sure you can sit through medical school without upchucking, Chapel?"

The realization of her words, along with the apple core in her lap, made Christine realize the irony of the situation. Janice and Ben tried to be polite but couldn't contain themselves when they fell into giggles and chuckles. They were of course, laughing at her comment and not at her personally, which took the fidgets out of Christine. A small smile of gratitude graced her lips.

A-A-A

_"All colors are the friends of their neighbors and the lovers of their opposites."_

_-Marc Chagall_

A-A-A

Starfleet Academy was not considered a ruthless institution but it did carry out policies with a firm hand. Cadets were expected to arrive on schedule at classes, turn in completed assignments, keep their uniforms tidy, and maintain a proper code of conduct. These no-nonsense regulations ensured students that hard work and diligence would be worthwhile in the long run while the glamorous appeal of officer promotions and starships kept wayward cadets from throwing in the towel.

After a brief orientation and being signed to separate dormitory rooms, Christine, Janice, and Ben departed ways. The blonde girl shook Christine's hand vigorously and encouraged her to stop by from time so that she could show Christine her art sketches. Christine assured her that she would take advantage of the offer.

Balancing her bag in one hand, she used her other free hand to slide the security card through the door lock and push it open. The sight of a cool airy room was a welcomed relief after the noisy shuttle ride across the country. She shut the door securely behind herself and examined the interior of her new living quarters.

The room was clean and simply furnished with gray furniture and chrome desks. Two neat narrow beds had been set up with crisp white sheets folded so perfectly that Christine could not locate a wrinkle as small as a pin in them. She detected a slight smell of disinfect chemicals in the air but knew it was temporary.

Christine knelt on one edge of the bed and kicked off her pinching boots. She massaged her left foot in relief while taking in the scene around her. The efficiency and order of the dormitory room made the homemade paper lanterns and painted ceilings of the sanctuary house look bohemian in comparison. The sudden relapse of her former residence caused her throat to constrict painfully. Not wanting to relent to homesickness already, Christine forced it down.

She rose and went over to the window, hoping some air would take out the alcohol smell of cleaning fluids. No sooner had Christine slid the panel of glass open then she gaped in awe out at the view from her bedroom window.

The sky overhead had faded to light lavender in the early evening light. The sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean were brilliant as aquamarine gems and murmured a soothing sound into her ears. Dividing sea from sky was the Golden Gate Bridge, in an impressive display of orange and brass metallic stretching from one landmark to another.

Off in the distance she could see craggy mountains and hilltops aiming for the sky where shuttles and anti-gravity cars whizzing to and fro in the air like busy bees flocking to flowers. Closer by were cadets strolling and chatting among themselves, their bright red uniforms contrasting against the smooth emerald-green lawns.

Christine stood there enraptured, taking in the magnificent scene that lay before her. Was this only a small sample of what Starfleet had to offer?

She remained in place for over an hour to watch the sun finally descend into the horizon. The sky gradually melted from midnight blue into black. Stars appeared overhead, twinkling brightly and beckoning excited young explorers to come visit the unknown celestial worlds that lay above their heads.

Space would have to wait. She'd keep her feet on the ground for now.


	2. Chapter 2

_SIX MONTHS LATER:_

Dr. Leonard McCoy was having one of his mood swings again. Four giggling girls had to be removed from his class after misplacing a vat of Amazon tree frogs and since then he had become rather suspicious of the young cadets who tried to get his supervision in advanced Bio-medics.

Incompetence was his biggest adversity. These kids thought they knew so much while studying anatomy in a warm clean classroom safe on Earth's ground. Feh, those greenhorns knew bullshit about science. Wait until they got up into the miserable void of space and were up to their elbows in bloodied guts and puking mouths. He'd the one having to bear the brunt of responsibilities.

McCoy's worst nightmare was being stuck on a starship in some godforsaken corner of the universe surrounded by dying patients and assisted by a junior officer who didn't know one end of a laser scalpel from another.

Today he was feeling rather cantankerous and Jim Kirk's joking attitude hadn't lightened up the situation over breakfast. McCoy gulped down two cups of strong black coffee before heading over to the testing center.

"All right," he grumbled to Dr. Perry. The two men were standing on a raised platform above the testing room where they could watch students below during the examination. "What've we got today?"

Dr. Perry pointed to the line of cadets waiting ever-so-patiently for the exam to start. "Toxic extraction. We're rating their response to lethal situations so let me know if any of the students meet with your fanatic approval." The hint of sarcasm in his voice was lost on McCoy's ears.

The younger doctor mumbled to himself while he folded his arms across his chest in skeptism. "Don't know how much I like these newfangled models. In my day we used the old-fashioned computer systems and they were just as good as-"

"Dr. McCoy, if you are so fond of old-fashioned techniques then perhaps you would feel more comfortable combing the beach for fresh corpses," Dr. Perry replied dryly. McCoy took the hint and kept his lips sealed.

Previous generations had debated heavily regarding ethical rules for using corpses for the sake of medical expertise. Now a safer option had become standard regulation.

Synthetic bodies created from artificial tissue and a cleverly strategized computer system that monitored the heart and vital systems were used not only in Starfleet but in other institutions across the galaxy. There was no risk of injuring a patient and yet the hands-on test was life-like enough to evaluate a student's competence. The fact that nine Starfleet doctors were watching them behind the glass window certainly didn't help sensitive nerves.

"You're next," the instructor said to Christine. Her peers wished her luck. She swiped her card and the door snapped open, permitting her to enter the instruction chamber.

The doctors were watching from behind the glass panel. Christine gave them a quick glance before cleaning her hands at the hygiene basin. Then she turned on the stimulator, picked up the laser scalpel, and turned to the dummy that lay on a metallic bed.

"_Andorian poison is infecting the patient's body_," Dr. Perry's voice rasped through the speakers. No sooner had he spoken then the artificial skin began to turn green and the heart monitor began beeping. "_You have two minutes to extract the poison before it shuts down his brain and vitals. Good luck"_.

Blocking out the starring eyes of her audience, Christine focused on the situation based on what she had learned in classes.

She knew that the venom would work its way quickly into the chest before heading to the brain. Applying the appropriate injections just below where his heart was would slow down the venom. Quickly her fingers selected the correct medications on the tray and she began injecting anti-toxins into the skin. From time to time she'd glance at the monitor screen to examine his vitals. While most of the venom had slowed down throughout his system, he was still in unstable condition.

The beeping was growing faster now. The dummy patient's fingers began to shake. She recognized the symptoms and knew he'd go into shock in less than a minute.

"_Thirty seconds, Cadet Chapel!" _

McCoy studied the cadet with a calloused thumb stuck between his teeth. He hoped she wouldn't go into a nervous breakdown or try to suck out the venom.

Wiping a strand of hair out of her face, Christine seized the laser scalpel. Two shocks, one on either side at the base of his neck, would prevent the venom against invading his central nerve system. She jammed the thin reed-like instrument into one side of his neck and pressed down on the button.

_**ZAP**__!_

Christine injected the laser scalpel in other side of his neck.

_**ZAP! **_

The dummy's face slowly began to drain of the lurid green color, much to Christine's relief. The mouth opened and the artificial stimulator caused him to cough. A putrid mud-colored liquid began oozing out of the dummy's mouth. Good. He was vomiting up the venom.

Christine wiped the venom away with a swabbing cloth, being careful so it only touched her gloves and not any inch of her skin. By the time she had resorted vital signs to normal, a healthy hue was being restored to the dummy's face. She managed exhale a sigh of relief. An injection of plasma antidote would keep his fever down and induce him to sleep.

Christine had just managed to extract the needle when lights flickered overhead.

"_Time's up, Cadet Chapel. Please remove your gloves and tunic. You will be exiting from the left side of the room,"_ announced Dr. Perry.

Adjusting her skirt and headband, Christine did as instructed and was soon face-to-face with Dr. Perry. He was not a man to hand out compliments so he nodded a "well done" to Christine and informed her that final results would be posted next week.

Dr. McCoy, on the other hand, looked very pleased with her. The tall brown-haired man strode right up to Christine and nodded eagerly.

"Well ma'am, I'm glad to see you're not sweating bullets like Mr. Gillford," McCoy complimented her. "Where'd you learn about anti-toxins so fast?"

"My primary school offered basic bio-courses to early students. I guess I got a head start in learning," Christine confessed. She was secretly very pleased with herself but attempted to contain it so as not to appear haughty. However, her toes curled up inside of her boots with delight.

"Which primary school?"

"The Minneapolis Sanctuary House."

McCoy's thick eyebrows furrowed. "Sanctuary House? I heard of that one. So you know about the Proxi-Atom virus, right?"

Feelings of joy were quickly deflated within Christine. "Yes, sir. I was exposed to the virus."

To her astonishment, he did not back away in disgust. Instead, McCoy gave a sharp nod of the head. "Good. Then you're also immune to four other viruses. Take Advanced Vascular Medics next year and you'll be sure signed onto a starship faster than you can say 'jack rabbit'."

"_Starship?"_ McCoy had turned to go but Christine caught him by the sleeve. "Doctor, pardon me but I thought I was going to be assigned to a local Federation hospital."

"You? Hell no, not if I have anything to say about it," McCoy answered. "Starfleet needs to fill up the quota of competent medical officers on ships so I expect you to be on the next one in less than two years."

He turned from Christine and went back to feuding with Dr. Perry over another cadet's incompetence, leaving the young cadet in bewilderment.

A-A-A

"A starship? Excellent!" Ben waved a hand in the air. "You'll probably be one of the youngest kids aboard but who cares?"

"But that wasn't my expectation," Christine insisted. "I just wanted to pass my courses."

"Try giving yourself a little more credit when it's due. Especially when you're up against McCoy the Grouch."

"He seems nice," Christine said in defense.

"Don't get me wrong, Christine. McCoy's one of the best medics in the fleet. He's a great doctor but kind of pessimist. He'll think of a 'worst case scenario' in every situation."

Christine smiled. "I thought that'd be a good thing aboard a starship."

"It's the captain's job to fret over those problems. Leave the doctors to the rest," Ben insisted. "And speaking of Starfleet, everyone's been buzzing about the new models they've been building in Iowa over the last several months. Haven't you heard about it? U.S.S. Liberty, Endeavor, Independent, and Enterprise should be operational sometime next year."

"Really? Are they good ships?"

"Good doesn't cut it!" Ben was warming up to his particularly favorite subject. "Turbo engines, thermal blasters, warpel sonic drives, and room for over 400 people! Those babies are the most beautiful things to ever grace a galaxy."

"Aside from me, of course," Janice announced. She had popped up quickly and plunked herself down next to Christine. "You look like hell. Did you eat lunch yet?"

"No, I'm still recovering from my exam," Christine said.

"Really? How did it go?"

Christine related the scenario over to Janice, who also complimented her on a job well done as well as managing to win the unlikely trust of Dr. "Bones" McCoy.

"I think that's enough testing for one day, Christine. You've been slaving over textbooks for weeks now. It's time to have some fun."

She plunked a large metallic red box on the table and patted it affectionately. "Get your bathing suit on. We're going to the beach!"

A-A-A

_That afternoon:_

Gaila was accustomed to catching the eye of male humans.

Today was no exception and she was extra careful to wear her plum-colored bathing suit, the one festooned with rhinestones that looked especially sensual next to her green skin. "Exotic", they called her. It brought the appropriate type of attention an Orion girl wanted as she lay on her towel and began rubbing lotion into her slender legs with long even strokes.

"Can I do that for you?" one cadet in swimming trunks offered. She noticed his tanned skin, his bleach-blonde hair, and his face that was nearly drooling with eagerness.

"Knock yourself out," she murmured in a low teasing voice. With great satisfaction, he poured the spicy orange-scented oil into his palms and began massaging it into her shoulders. Gaila's lips pursed up and she purred contently. Lazily, she leaned back on her elbows and basked in the warmth of the sun and the silken sand that tickled deliciously between her toes. _This is the life_, she assured herself.

Galia's attention eventually drifted across the boardwalk in time to watch two blondes dismount a shuttle. Unlike her glittering amethyst bikini, they were clad in the more modest (but rather dull, in Gaila's opinion) Starfleet swimming uniforms of navy blue and white—Earth's traditional nautical colors.

The girls didn't seem to care as they were more focused on lugging their beach equipment to a suitable spot near the water.

Gaila gave an innocent shrug. Who was she to question how cadets spent their recreation time?

"Ah...ah..." she exhaled deeply. Her attention came back to the male cadet who was running the palm of his hand across a sore spot on her neck that needed pressure. "That's perfect. Just a little further down. Thaaaaaat's it."

Some 200 yards away, Janice had dumped all her equipment on a pop-up canvas sheet. She dusted her hands together before placing them on her hips. "How's this for a refreshing break from hitting the books?" She inhaled deeply. "Mmmm, smell that air! You can't bottle this kind of stuff, Christine."

Christine breathed it in as well. Calling the air "salty" wasn't sufficient. The sea carried a powerful briny scent mingled with seaweed and driftwood across the shores and into their nostrils. It wasn't exactly musky but something pungent brewed from the bowels of the ocean that washed over them in warm waves of heat. "It's amazing," she agreed.

Janice was already arranging her easel and paints on their sheet. "I'm going to sketch something once we come back from a dip." She kicked off her sandals and beckoned for Christine to follow her into the water.

Christine edged into the waves with great trepidation. Being raised in wintery Minnesota had not made her accustomed to swimming in natural bodies of water. The crashing waves that slapped at her thighs and roared in her ears were nothing like the mild chlorine-based water of an indoor heated pool. This was Mother Nature at her most dangerous advantage.

She leaped forward and landed on her stomach, getting a mouthful of icy cold salt-water. "Aaaaooow!" Christine shouted, spitting it out fast. "C-c-c-cold!' A deep green wave swirled around her while her bare feet scrapped the sandy bottom, feeling pebbles and bits of shells tickling her toes.

"Keep moving, it'll warm up," Janice laughed. She seemed to be riding on top of a wave that was headed for Christine. Arms and legs flaying with delight, she let out a whooping victory cry.

"Huh?"

The last thing Christine saw was an enormous shadow before the heavy wave frothing white crashed down on top of her. Her senses were in a whirl when she was tossed upside down in the water. She kicked and thrashed to find the surface but no sooner did her head reach air again when out of nowhere, another huge wave rammed her into deeper water. She blinked through the murky green waters scanning for light but her eyes stung in the void and her lungs ached for oxygen.

Janice's eyes quickly scanned the ocean for her friend. Realizing that the situation had turned suddenly drastic, she swam further out and shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"Christine!"

The frigid salt-water flooded into her mouth, burning her nose and clouding her senses. Her feet had become heavy and her arms had lost their strength. Christine tried to remember what she learned from safety class about sinking and floating but everything was already becoming dark and blurry in front of her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Mrs. Donovan looked at the small girl who was fiercely tugging a knit cap over her nearly bald head. Her petite figure looked even tinier amidst the blankets that were swaddled around her to contain body heat. _

_She sat down on the bed next to the child and cupped one cool cheek with her palm. "Your hair will grow back, Christine. And this time it will look even lovelier than before."_

_Her gentle reassurance could not distract the child from the overwhelming shock of reality. "Why did I just get sick?" her small voice piped up. "How come I didn't die like other people?"_

_Mrs. Donovan could not give a practical answer for the life of her. The only consolation she could give now was to wrap a quilt around the girl's shoulders and tuck her in to make certain she was comfortable._

"_You're much stronger than expected, Christine. Some people might say you were born under a lucky star." _

_A-A-A_

Christine could feel the hot sun beating down on her head and a dull buzz in her ears. Someone was saying something but water still clogged her head and intestines. She felt a heavy weight pushing firmly into her chest and her stomach contracted painfully. It was almost like a balloon being squeezed so tight that it might explode.

And explode it did.

_Lucky star_

The water rushed out of Christine's lungs and spurted from her mouth in one swift rush. She fell over, coughing and chocking up every drop of water until she was left wheezing in breaths of air.

"Thank goodness you're okay!" Janice was already hugging Christine and sniffling at the same time. Someone else was there too, a young man who had just gotten a towel around Christine's shivering shoulders. "All right there, ma'am?" he asked.

"I, I feel sick," she gasped, struggling to get off the ground. Her legs wobbled uneasily, causing the man to move forward and prop up the back of her head.

"Easy there, little lady. That wave nearly knocked you out into the Pacific." Now there was no mistaking a trace of humor in the voice. She found herself starring up at blue eyes that twinkled merrily. She closed her eyes to block him out and tried to breath deeply.

"That's it. You'll be all right," he assured her.

"Jim!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Christine noticed an alluring green figure approach them, her auburn hair flapping in the breeze as she waved to them. Gaila had put on a loose-fitting cotton tunic over her bathing suit although it couldn't diminish her physical appeal.

The Orion girl rested a hand on the young man's elbow, her voice warm with concern. "Is she gonna be okay? Did a monster attck her?"

The blonde man chuckled. "No, Gaila. I rescued this mermaid from a tidal wave before her people could take her back to Atlantis."

Christine coughed twice before gaining enough air to talk. "I'm not a mermaid, mister."

"Say, you're Cadet Chapel, aren't you? I heard you're pretty smart in the Galactic Biology League." Gaila's bright eyes flickered up and down Christine before she folded her arms across her chest teasingly. "Never knew Jim had a weakness for brainiacs."

The man named Jim smirked when his attention shifted back to Christine.

She couldn't tell if that heat in her face was from blushing or the sun's rays. "Not yet," she insisted quickly. "I'll need to get passing marks for the next 18 months to get into the advanced classes."

"Then it's a good thing I was here today," Jim replied. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of that status."

"We really appreciate your help out there," Janice added. She began drying Christine's hair vigorously until her head spun dizzily. "Think you two can get a fresh bottle of water for her?"

"Sure, no problem." Jim and Gaila linked arms together and quickly ran to the closest concession stand.

Once they were out of earshot, Janice leaned over to Christine and began murmuring in a low excited voice. "That's James Tiberius Kirk," Janice whispered into her ear. "He's from a farming plant in Iowa and transferred here about two years ago. Isn't he handsome? He's absolutely _scandalous," _she punctuated the last word proudly.

"Rumor has it he's gone through at least half the girls in the Fleet. Well, some of them weren't really girls," she added with a smirk. "We're all crazy about him. And he teases the living daylights out of us." Janice sighed dreamily.

"Uh oh," was all Christine could muster. So _that_ was Jim Kirk. He certainly was good-looking enough to be considered the Casanova of Starfleet.

"But he's no dummy," Janice went on. "Jim is at the top of his class in Engineering, Starship Supervision, and physical achievement. You felt his muscles, didn't you?"

"I don't know, I was half-conscious at the time," Christine bemoaned aloud. She shook her in disbelief. "It's hopeless, Janice. What kind of Starfleet nurse nearly passes out on her first shuttle ride and then practically drowns in the ocean?"

"A lucky one," Janice ranted on. "I think it's absolutely romantic that he swam in to save you from drowning. Too bad he didn't have to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation for-"

"Janice!" Christine exclaimed. "There's a code of conduct to follow and I have _got_ to pass Advanced Biomedics next semester! What'll the other cadets say?"

"They'd say you were very lucky to be saved by a charming hero," announced Jim, who had walked back to the girls and made himself comfortable on the sand. He handed Christine a fresh bottle of drinking water. "It would be a terrible stroke of irony if you drowned right after completing your tests without even setting foot aboard a starship."

"I agree," Janice nodded eagerly. "Where's Gaila?"

"Had to go back inside. Solar energy isn't good for Orions in the long run." Jim looked at Christine and winked. "If I were you I wouldn't worry so much about the marks. McCoy is sure you'll pass."

She blinked in astonishment. "You know Dr. McCoy?"

"Sure! Bones and I go back a while. He says you're one of the best medical students in the whole academy."

The compliment sent a sudden blush through her cheeks and neck. He may seem borderline arrogant or just self confident but at least Jim Kirk wasn't above praising other people. The fact he had just saved her from the ocean caused Christine to feel at least some gratitude towards him.

"I'm starving," Jim said aloud. He eyes the bright red box that lay next to Janice. "Got any food?"

Janice in turn looked at Christine for approval. "Help yourself," she offered generously. "Janice and I packed enough for three meals." Christine opened up the self-heating container which had separate cooling compartments for cold drinks and ices.

Jim accepted a frost-beer and flipping off the lid, waved it in the air. "Cheers," he said as he sipped the frothy blue drink thoughtfully.

Christine's stomach, usually very sensitive, managed to hold down a leg of fried chicken. Maybe the sea air had woken up her appetite or it was almost dinner time. Either way, she felt hungrier than before for a long time.

While they ate and chatted, Janice had taken up her easel and was applying oil pastels to the canvas. She had a natural flair for art and Christine was fascinated how she could work so passionately on a piece, almost forgetting the world around her. Her tongue would be slightly sticking out of her mouth when she was completely engrossed in her work. If anyone dared to venture into Janice Rand's room they'd be amazed at the various cut-outs from Renaissance to Post-Modern art to Futuristic Nova designs plastered across the walls. She always had a piece of pottery or a plaster figurine drying in some corner and wore a thick smock to keep her uniforms from getting dirty.

Today Janice was vigorously adding tiny swift strokes of a brown pencil to the canvas. Christine listened attentively as Janice traded verbal blows with Jim Kirk.

"Brawn you may have Cadet Kirk but can you prove you have brains to match?" she teased.

"I know about a lot of things," Jim replied as-a-matter-of-fact. "For example, did you know that the bikini bathing suit got its name from Bikini Island during World War II?"

Janice's head jerked up from the canvas and even Christine thought it sounded far-fetched.

"It's true ladies," Jim nodded vigorously. "That part of land in the Pacific Ocean was known as the Republic of Marshall Islands. They were testing hydrogen bombs for years on Bikini Atoll. The swimsuit also had a—shall we say—'explosive' reputation on the conservative home front."

"You're pulling our leg," Christine insisted.

"I am not. Look it up in the historical archives," Jim grinned.

The day lingered on comfortably and they took advantage of the long warm afternoon hours. After the trio had eaten their fill and Janice had set aside her canvas to dry, they watched each passerby stroll up and down the boardwalk while waves make curving patterns in the sand. As the sun began to fade away, Christine noticed Jim Kirk's expression alter. He had become quieter, less playful and more contemplative. She watched him rest his head on top of folded arms and gaze out at the water looking lost in thought.

"Why did you join Starfleet?" Christine dared to ask him.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe for my dad's memory. Maybe for myself. One way or the other, if I stayed stuck in Iowa forever I'd go mad."

"Your dad?"

"He crashed a starship into a Romulan war vessel so my mom could escape with everyone else in the emergency shuttles. She gave birth to me in space," There was a trace of tightness, or perhaps longing, in his voice when he spoke. "I never got to know him."

"I'm sorry," Christine murmured her voice soft with emotion. "I didn't know my parents very well either."

Jim's gaze shifted to her and with one hand, he lightly touched her hair. It didn't take more than a moment for him to realize what had happened to her. The gesture was benevolent, not flirtatious.

"Proxi-Atom Virus?" he asked.

"Yes."

"How old where you?"

"Five."

"Anybody else in your family?"

"No."

"Damn." Jim ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "And I thought _my_ life sucked before Starfleet. Whoever thought people like us would meet at the Academy?"

"I think Starfleet is whatever you want it to be," Christine admitted slowly. "Here you have the chance to improve your life from whatever it was before. But I think you should do it for your own sake," she added with a suggestion. "Not for your father's sake. Otherwise you'll burn out."

One eyebrow crooked up in her direction."You know something? You've got a good pair of pretty lips, Ms. Chapel."

"Oh Jim, don't get started again," Janice beginning to protest.

"I mean it. Seriously." Jim got off the blanket and started dusting off the sand. "Being smart isn't just rattling off a bunch of manuals. It's about the right actions at the right time. I think you're going to do just fine here."

She smiled and looked down. "Thanks."

He turned his attention back to the frothing waters that beat at their feet. "Will you look at that," Jim declared in amazement.

"Think about it." He seemed to be speaking more to himself than the girls. "600 years ago if you said the earth was round, they'd burn you at the stake. It had to be flat as a pancake. Period. And then people faced hell trying to get across the world: storms, typhoons, diseases, pirates...but they finally made it. Discovered new countries and civilizations. There wouldn't ever be a navy without an ocean to sail across."

His voice had become serious and full of awe. Neither Christine or Janice dared to interrupt him: Jim Kirk was clearly in his element.

"And then there were lands to conquer. The Lewis and Clark Expedition. Oregon Trail. Trains and cars, airplanes and tanks. Everyone got the chance to fly. Cold War and the NASA Space Race. Contact with aliens in from other planets. World War III. What took light years to do is now possible in a few days.

Jim shook his head in amazement. "Space may be the final frontier but the sea has been, and always will be, the first one."

It was very still along the beach. All Christine could hear was the sound of her breathing, the echo of Jim's soliloquy, and the sea humming its swelling tune in her ears.

A-A-A

_Three days later:_

"Are you _sure_ she's all right?" Dr. McCoy was hovering over Christine with a small tri-scanner. The tiny rotating cylinders inside beeped and flashed madly, much to her annoyance.

"Yes, doctor. I'm perfectly healthy," Christine replied for the umpteenth time. It was nice to have someone watch over you but this was getting ridiculous. After her recent clash with the Pacific Ocean, Gaila had reported to Dr. McCoy who in turn barked at Ben to get Christine into bed right away. She wasn't allowed to leave her room nearly two days despite nothing more than a minor cold.

Dr. McCoy did not think so. His "worst case scenario" instincts suspected she might have gotten salt fungus in the lungs and he was taking a private "house call" on her dormitory room.

"We can't take any chances," he said at last. "Five other cadets complained of vomiting and nausea last week."

"Where they also at the beach?" Janice inquired.

"I don't know. But we've got to stop this epidemic in its tracks."

The doctor's neurotic behavior was contagious. "Do you feel dizzy, Christine? Any fever?" Janice asked.

"I told you, I'm fine! Let me out of bed so I can-"

"Give her some tea" McCoy ordered.

"No, wait! I can get a drink on my own—"

Ben popped a spoon of hot liquid into Christine's mouth. She yelled and sprayed it out at once. "Ow! That's _hot_!" she cried.

He looked down at the cup that was still steaming away. "Oops. Sorry."

Dr. McCoy gathered up his equipment. "Let me know how she feels tomorrow. If there's any incease in temperature increases we'll move Christine to the hospital wing."

"Yes sir!" Ben and Janice replied in unison. With a final nod, McCoy shut his valise and left the dorm room.

"Please let me out of bed," Christine pleaded. "I've got a term paper to finish."

"Not a chance," Ben insisted. "Six more hours of bed rest to go."

She sighed in reluctance. "All right. Then would you mind going to the archive library for me? I'll put together a list of the reading materials I need."

Thankfully, they consented. Ben offered to take the list to the research room while Janice tried to coax Christine into eating more chicken soup.

Ben had hardly taken five steps outside the room when he raced back inside, slammed the door, and starred at the girls with eyes bulging in fear.

"Holy ****!"

"Language, young man," Janice scolded him. "There are ladies present."

"Hide me! Hide me!" Ben began backing away from the door. "Can't let her see me!"

"Who?"

The visitor's signal chimed outside Christine's dorm room. She pressed a finger on the screen near her bed. The smooth blue screen materialized into the face of another cadet who was standing outside just outside the door. A pretty East African female cadet, in fact. Pretty if not for her expression which screamed bloody murder. She stood on Christine's porch with her arms locked tightly over her chest and one foot tapping impatiently.

"Cadet Harrero," she replied crisply. "If you're hiding in there then I order you to come out of there at once. I order you!"

"Don't let her see me," Ben begged the girls. "She threatened to cut off my testicles and feed them to the sharks!"

"But what did you do?" Christine shot at him.

"I sort of implied a remark that could have been misinterpreted as offensive," Ben mumbled in a low breath.

"What?"

"Ben!"

"Well, she started it!" he insisted in his defense.

The continued chiming of music outside Christine's door meant the oncoming oppressor was still waiting for Ben Harrero to come out and surrender.

"Quick, hide him under the bed," Janice suggested.

"No! That's the first place everyone looks!" Christine insisted. Thinking fast, she nudged them to the bathroom. "Janice, get a shower started. Ben, can you squeeze into the earthquake closet?"

He nodded vigorously. Christine threw off the bedcovers and handed Janice a towel. Working fast, she kicked Ben's boots into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind them. Then she ran a hand through her hair, quickly adjusting the unkempt bun that sat atop her head.

Christine pressed the entrance button, allowing the door to slide open. Without even a "hello", the newcomer marched right past Christine and examined the room.

"Can I help you?" Christine asked.

The young woman whirled on her, her elegant coif of dark hair swirling around her shoulders. Christine noticed the badge on her red collar gleamed gold, not silver like hers and Janice. This must be a superior officer. If so, then Ben could be in a lot of trouble.

"Lieutenant Uhura," she replied in a crisp no-nonsense voice.

"Cadet Chapel," Christine tried to be polite. "Is there something I can do for you, lieutenant?"

Uhura's liquid brown eyes were fringed with the longest darkest eyelashes Christine had ever seen. They blazed in Christine's direction before shifting around the room. Her silver teardrop earrings glinted when she strode across the tilted floor while her boots made an audible clicking noise above the sound of water rushing from inside the bathroom.

"Someone in there?" Uhura demanded.

"Just my friend Janice," Christine said.

"Where's Cadet Harrero? I know he's a friend of yours."

Christine tried to put on her most innocent expression. "He's not in the engineering lab?" she inquired coolly.

"Don't play games with me, Chapel. " Uhura thrust one long manicured finger into Christine's face. "And _don't_ try to hide him. I have a personal score to settle with him."

Christine had a good notion of telling this prickly-faced intruder to leave at once but her instincts suggested a different tack. She cleared her throat and prepared to address her superior officer respectfully. "May I ask what he did to upset you? I can pass on a message to him if you like."

Uhura's lips thinned irritably. "Yes, you can pass on a message to him. Tell Harrero that I resent being called 'the PMS Gestapo' and if _**he**_ was expected to represent Starfleet at the upcoming Oxford Linguistic Competition then he'd be high-strung as a bouncing quadro-atom."

"Linguistic Competition?" echoed Christine.

"Only the most elite candidates from the best military schools around the world competing in xenolinguistics," replied Uhura.

"I know it's a prestigious competition that affects Starfleet's reputation," Christine acknowleged diplomatically. She knew enough about it from reading the public holo-panels in the student corridors. ""No doubt a worthwhile delegation will be attending this year."

"It will be. I'm on the team," Uhura informed her. "Cadet Harrero was expected to arrange our shuttle transportation to London and he missed the deadline."

Uhura marched right up to Christine and looked her in the eye, although she had to tilt her head up to meet Christine's face. She was an inch and a half taller than the lieutenant, much to her own surprise.

"If we do not depart from the San Francisco Terminal by eighteen hundred hours tonight-" Uhura lowered her voice, "-there will be Armageddon in Starfleet Academy."

Christine gulped. "I, I'll make sure he gets the message."

There was a clicking sound and the bathroom door opened. Janice Rand came out wearing a bathrobe and had Christine's fluffy blue towel wrapped around her hair. "Ah, nothing like a hot fresh shower," she smiled. She glanced from Christine to Uhura. "Some wrong here?"

"Aha!" Uhura swept past Janice and jumped into the bathroom. "You can't hide forever!" Hissing steam and dripping water meet her—no sign of Ben Harrero anywhere. Christine knotted her fingers together and Janice threw her a look of concern. She mouthed "closet" when Uhura's back was turned.

Dismayed at the sight of the missing male cadet, Uhura turned to the girls. Her face registered with defeat. "I apologize for my rash actions," she replied in a calmer tone. "You're obviously too smart to be harboring a fugitive."

"Obviously." Janice was shaking slightly and trying hard not to laugh. Christine could also feel the laughter bubbling up inside of her but she dared not show it in the lieutenants' face. As Uhura turned to go, Christine still tried to offer one last bit of courtesy.

"Good luck at the competition," she said with a respectful nod. "And have a safe trip to England."

"Thank you, Cadet Chapel." Uhura stepped out the door and the panel slid shut.

Janice collapsed onto the bed in relief. "Whew! That was close!"

Twenty seconds later, a dripping wet and very uncomfortable looking Ben emerged from the tiny pod closet from within the bathroom. "Boy, I owe you one, Christine."

She still felt a bit of the motherly lecturing instinct was coming on. "Did you really insult her, Ben?"

"She deserved it!" Ben insisted. He had hoped she would take his side but Christine just shook her head at him in disapproval.

"I'm not sure I'd feel the same way being in her shoes."

"So?" Ben retorted.

"So she was under a lot of pressure. People say and do terrible things when they're angry but they'll regret it later." Christine couldn't believe she was lecturing him but she pursued in defense. "I don't think the lieutenant had a right to threaten you but she was going to the Oxford Competition. That's a big deal, Ben. MIT and Kyoto compete as well so Starfleet has to make the best impression possible."

"From what I hear, xenolinguistics is one of the most challenging fields in the Academy," Janice pointed out. Christine looked grateful.

Ben, for all of his antics, looked sheepish. He sighed and ruffled his hair. "Fine. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Apologize," Christine said. "If you really say you owe me one then you'll say you're sorry."

"She'll kick me when she sees my face," Ben protested.

"Not a chance. Uhura just said they're leaving on the evening shuttle and the competition lasts four days. I'm sure she'll have plenty of time to cool down and you can say you're sorry when she's not annoyed with you."

"You sure about this, Christine?"

"Quite sure. The other kids and I always got into fights in the Sanctuary House over toys and moon crystals. Mrs. Donovan usually moved us into separate rooms so we could cool down before speaking to each other. It helped a lot."

"Is that so? I can't imagine you getting angry over something so trivial, Christine," Janice said as she patted her hair with a towel.

Christine wouldn't tell them now but her memory was sharp enough to recall a cuddly robotic kitten that could walk and speak five alien languages—and was often the source of conflict for feisty 7-year-olds claiming control over the toy.

Ben rolled off the bed and slapped his knee. "All right, I'll do it if the last thing I do and Admiral Archer ships me off to some frozen wasteland." He hesitated and looked at Christine for any further approval. "Should I send an electronic recording or on standard PADD?"

"I think a hand-written note is the most effective. It's considered old-fashioned but very courteous," she suggested. Ben shook her hands gratefully and quickly left the room. When he was gone, Janice turned to Christine with a pleased expression.

"You handled that pretty well, ya know. I would've told her to piss off."

"Well, she was going to a very important competition. I'm sure I feel the same way about the advanced class," Christine suggested. "And he shouldn't have insulted her like that."

"Are you going to give everyone like that a second chance?"

Christine shrugged and picked up her electronic notebook. _A woman with Uhura's feisty attitude must be very popular_, she thought to herself, perhaps with a trace of envy.

Christine often found it risky to speak up in front of her superiors. She had to coax herself out a shell and take the chance of being heard, even at the risk of getting a wrong answer or being insulted. Though the recent clash with lieutenant made her consider that someone with an outgoing attitude might be a good influence on her future.

A-A-A

Advanced Biomedics was challenging but not overwhelmingly difficult for Christine. The hardest part was getting into the classroom on the first day with ninety pairs of eyes staring at her. She was the youngest person in the classroom and most of the students were over 21.

Once she was engrossed in her studies, however, she enjoyed learning about the intricate details of humanoid surgery and specific antidotes to common diseases on heavily populated planets. She took notes, raised her hand, and often made questions that were relative to the sessions. Her teachers were impressed and on more than one occasion other cadets would ask for her assistance in study groups when the periods ended.

Three weeks after settling into course work, she tapped the visual screen that hung over the doorway of Gaila's room. The Orion girl's face appeared on the screen and promptly lit up.

"Come on in!" she chirped. The door slid open revealing Gaila in nothing but underwear. Christine's face flushed at the sight of black-and-white swirled negligee that hugged Gaila's body in all the right places but Gaila was nonchalant as ever. Females of her species didn't worry about such trivial things as modesty.

"How's advanced class working for you? Is Y'vin Noir in your studies session? I've heard he's yummy," Gaila ranted on. When Christine's disappointed face revealed neither joy or relief, Gaila's attitude changed. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

With somewhat disdain, Christine pulled out something from behind her back. Gaila shrieked at the ugly mass of fabric incrusted with peroxide paint. "Is _that_ your uniform?" she demanded, pointing a long green finger at the ruined skirt.

"_Was_ my uniform. Somebody spray-painted all six of them," Christine said unhappily. "I'm wearing the only clean one I've got. I came to you because Janice is busy off campus and Ben can't help me." Her voice wobbled uneasily when she spoke. What had she done to deserve this?

Gaila gingerly touched the ugly rusty-colored uniform hardened from spray paint. Then she snapped her fingers and looked up. "Beru Noir," she said abruptly.

"Who?"

"She's in advanced classes too. Tall woman, fancy red hair, wears a huge Centari Moon diamond on her right hand? That's Beru, all right."

Christine's mind filtered back to the classroom. She recalled watching the sunlight stream through the windows and a handsome girl in the front row who waved her hand not to ask questions but to let her diamond sparkle in the morning sun for everyone to notice.

"The Noir family is rich," Gaila informed her. " That's why their estate is on Centari, because the family business has done mining over the last 80 years. They've got private space yachts and aquarium pools too. Beru's cousins aren't so bad—like I said, Y'vin is great—but you can smell her stench from a mile away."

Christine sat down slowly on the bed. She had seldom attracted unwanted attention and this being her first experience, was perplexed at the malevolent gesture.

"Why would Beru Noir do this to me?"

"Weeeeelll," Gaila wound a lock of auburn hair around one finger. "Beru Noir must be trying to rub out the competition."

"By wrecking my uniforms?" Christine threw it on the floor in disdain. "How's that going to help _her_?"

"Maybe she thinks you'll pack your bags and head back to Minnesota," Gaila suggested.

"Oh no," Christine insisted, gaining backbone at once. "I've worked too hard this past year to give up my scholarship. And besides, a couple of Janice's art pieces are on display at the Agnes Conservatory tonight," she added. "I promised her I'd go and give a little encouragement."

"Well, you'd better watch out because those art shows can be social wars," Gaila cautioned her. "What are you wearing to the conservatory? How are you fixing your hair?"

Christine shrugged innocently. Gaila crossed her arms over her chest and examined the human girl up and down. Her lips were a bit fuller and her face less lanky than when she had first stepped onto California soil. But there was still room for improvement. That bun of messy straw-colored hair would have to go. So would the uniform. And hadn't Christine _ever_ tried Scheherazade makeup?

"Sit right down," Gaila ordered Christine. She directed the girl to a chair near the mirrors and began fumbling in the bathroom. Seconds later, she dumped a loaded armful of various cosmetics and beauty products onto the bed. "I'm going to give you a makeover," she announced.

Christine's face registered with alarm. "You don't have to do that," she said.

"I know. That's what makes me so nice!" Gaila gushed. "Oh please, Christine. Let me fix you up for the art show tonight. Orion girls are especially good at natural beauty adornment and you deserve a little leisure after hitting the books all week."

"Well," Christine began warming up to her offer. "Okay, but so long as you don't go overboard."

"I'll behave," Gaila insisted. She ripped the black metal clasp out of Christine's hair and tossed it carelessly into the disposable bin. The yellowish hair tumbled down Christine's back in ripples when Gaila ran her fingers through it.

When Gaila bent closer to Christine she could detect different tantalizing scents from her skin; licorice and rose oil...and a sensual trace of sandalwood and musk. Christine knew a little about the pheromones laced into Orion women's skin that easily aroused men. If Gaila was aware of her natural power over people then at least she didn't rub it into Christine. Instead, she was hovering over Christine like a mother hen and clucking her tongue in disapproval.

She had sprayed Christine's hair wet and was working a thick creamy purple lotion into her hair, massaging it into her scalp. Christine closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Gaila's fingertips pressing gently but firmly against her head in tiny spiraling strokes. "Don't use any of that Starfleet regulated soap. It's sanitary but it'll dry your skin and hair out," Gaila ordered her. "This will restore natural shine and keep your hair from looking shabby. How's that feel?"

"Good," Christine murmured somewhat sleepily. She felt drowsy but pleased while Gaila was running a comb through her hair to smooth out the lotion. "It smells like violets."

"Guess the secret ingredient."

Christine tried to think of the most ludicrous item ever. "Bull semen?"

"Heavens, no! Ground up Varasu wood. The thick bark oozes a sap rich in proteins on my planet and they use that for beauty products. Word of advice, Christine. Never put shit in your hair," Gaila lectured her. She took up a pair of laser scissors and began snipping off locks of hair. _ZLIT! ZLIT! ZLIT!_ went the scissors.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Christine asked.

"Relax, just looping off some loose ends," Gaila assured her. While she cut Christine's hair she went on chatting. "With you in the advanced class, Beru's looking bad. She might actually have to study for her next final. My roommate would give her a knuckle sandwich if anyone painted on her uniforms. Catch her!"

Gaila stopped cutting hair and turned around to take Christine's face in her hands. She pursed up her lips and studied her face. "Mmmm, nice oval shape and big eyes. Retro hairstyles are coming back but I won't do a beehive. We'll go for something stylish yet sensible."

Christine had no objection at that point. She watched more and more purple-gluey hair fall to the ground and eventually she felt a heavy weight lifted from the back of her neck. Gaila rinsed the rest of the lotion out of Christine's hair using the water-spray until it was clean again and made her sit under the solar cap for five minutes to dry it. She used the comb to fluff up the front of Christine's hair and tease away any stray hairs.

"Okay, you can look."

Christine glanced in the mirror and when her eyes lit up, Gaila was almost envious at the sparkle in her clear blue eyes. Almost. "Oh my," was all Christine could muster.

"Do you like it?" Gaila asked.

She did like it very much. Her long stringy hair had been cropped shorter and now just came to her shoulders, the layers framing her face in an elegant bob cut. A few wispy bangs swept across her brow. The lotion must've done something because her hair glowed almost silver under the lights. "I think it's beautiful. Thank you, Gaila."

Beaming with pride, Gaila adjusted a blue headband a few inches above her forehead. "What did I say? Cute as a button."

A-A-A

The Conservatory bustled with diplomats, tourists, and elite social butterflies of San Francisco that flitted around the room and exchanged words of gossip and merriment to one another. All cadets with adequate conduct records were permitted to go so Christine spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd. And because the occasion was off campus, they were not obligated to wear their uniforms. Everyone had taken the liberty of dressing in new fresh clothes to accent their personal tastes.

The frustration over her uniforms was quickly dispatched to the back of Christine's mind. She was enjoying the fresh feeling of her new haircut and couldn't wait to show Janice. Gaila had pressed her with dozens of flashy outfits but Christine had settled on the simplest one in the pile, a pale-green tunic dress with white leggings and matching boots.

Janice saw her from across the room and waved excitedly. Christine came over and gave her a hug before holding Janice at arm's length. She looked pretty in pink; Janice wore a salmon-colored dress with a draped collar. Her hair, which often changed styles from month to month, had been parted into two spiral buns and was fastened with little pink rosebuds.

"You look wonderful," Christine admired her.

"Wow, great hairstyle!" Janice gushed. "That haircut suits you to a tee. Did Gaila do that for you?"

Christine nodded. Taking her friend by the hand, Janice showed her around to where her prized pieces were being displayed. One was a colleague of brass buttons forming an almost perfectly replica of the 1960's Sputnik satellite. Another was a panel of oil-painting depicting a flower's growth from the earth. Janice explained the materials and inspiration for each piece to guests who "oohed" and "aahed" at her talent.

Christine was admiring a twisted sculpture in one corner when she heard someone behind her. "That's a lovely tunic you're wearing," a voice murmured.

She turned around to see elegantly-dressed young man standing close by, a glass of wine in one hand and the other resting on a staircase. He had a long pale face and meloncholy expression of a character from a Shakespeare play. She suddenly felt her ankles wobble and an unexpected tingle in her hands.

"Chinatown, five credits," she blurted out. Then she blushed and brought a hand to her mouth. These weren't the type of people to discuss prices in public.

He laughed softly and took a sip of wine. "Y'vin Noir," he introduced himself. "You must be Ms. Chapel."

"How did you know that?"

"I merely asked your friend over there." He gestured to Janice who was talking to a bearded man in a blue cape. "Janice Rand gave such a glowing report that I had to come see this friend of hers who was racing to the top of the charts in school."

His compliment caused her cheeks to glow and he laughed softly. Standing aside from the noisy crowd, she found herself in deep discussion with this charming young man. Y'vin informed her of his traveling trips and listened attentively to her description of Starfleet courses. Eventually they drifted back to the gallery to survey the rest of Janice's work.

"Ms. Rand tells me you gave her some inspirations for her pieces," Y'vin commented.

"We had a Chagall replica in my old home," she explained. "I don't think Janice wanted to work with broken glass and it's difficult to cut to scale. So she opted for synthetic materials instead."

"It's not always easy to improvise as an artist," Y'vin nodded. "But the Sputnik one is especially clever."

"You think so?"

"I think," he pondered for a moment. "That you have the prettiest face in the room, Ms. Chapel. Wouldn't you agree?"

This time her cheeks turned pink and her stomach did little somersaults. She put a hand to her face to make certain she wasn't feverish. "I, I think I need to get a drink," she excused herself feebly. Y'vin nodded politely when she stepped back from him and made her way to the beverage counter.

Christine had ordered herself a lemon water and was sipping it carefully when she was aware of another person's attention fixed on her. Christine stole a quick glance at the woman's face Creamy smooth skin, flowing red hair flecked with gold highlights, almond-shaped eyes of a perfect green...yes, this had to be Beru Noir. The bottom of her ruby-red lips protruded slightly in a pouting gesture and the way she tossed her head when she talked suggested self-awareness and pride.

"Anything else for you miss?" the bartender asked her.

"No, thank you. This is fine." She dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

Right behind her, Beru brought a hand to her mouth and breathed loudly. "Ah…ah…ah-chooo!" she sneezed dramatically, making her voice loud enough for Christine to hear.

She turned around to see Beru's smirking face quickly materialize into an innocent one. But then a man at Beru's elbow brought a hand to his fist and coughed, also more for dramatic effect than medical relief. "Ach! Ach!" he went. Two more snobbish cadets began to sneeze and cough in her direction, their eyes smirking behind hands and fists.

Christine felt as though someone had pressed coals into her face. She tried to remember what Dr. McCoy had said but in the presence of these awful people, his words were muted out. She felt humiliated, absolutely sick to her stomach. Now at least a dozen of them were clustered together and continued their ridiculous pantomime.

"Achoo! Achoo!" Beru continued to fake-sneeze. She waved a hand in the air. "Goodness me, there must be an epidemic going around. I hope it's not contagious." She pronounced the last word in Christine's direction.

It was like a needle stabbing her in the heart over and over again. Thick tears of hatred and disgust swelled up in Christine's eyes but she wouldn't—she couldn't—let Beru see her break down like this. Turning on heel, she quickly moved away and strode out of the conservatory. Once she had reached the entrance steps, Christine broke out into a fierce run and let the tears run freely down her face.

As soon as Christine had left the room, Beru chuckled pleasantly to herself. "Good riddance," she murmured to her colleagues. She was about to sip her cocktail when a flash of emerald green skin jostled into her.

"Ooops!" Gaila staggered forward and her drink splashed into Beru's face. Bright red alcohol streamed down her face, melting her perfectly-painted makeup and staining Beru's once-spotless white dress. Beru's eyes went from her sopping ruined attire to Gaila, narrowing and flashing green fire with unbound fury.

"I'm so terribly sorry about that," Gaila replied in a sugary sweet voice. She backed away cautiously towards Janice.

"I know, some people can be _quite_ inconsiderate at times," Janice added in a high strained voice. She linked her arm with Gaila and they strolled off to the next exhibit room.

A-A-A

Christine kept running down the beach, arms flaying and feet slapping against the ground. She stopped after five minutes to rip off her shoes and kept on running, now feeling her feet dig into the cool heavy sand with every step she took.

She must've run over a mile because when she was out of breath, the conservatory was no more than a tiny speck of light on the horizon behind her. Exhausted and relieved, she collapsed on the beach. There were no more tears now—she had drained them out with her fierce running—but nevertheless she wiped her wet face with the back of her hand.

She wouldn't trade places with that painted prig Beru for just five minutes.

But the insulting gesture still smarted, though.

Christine collapsed onto the sand and listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. The wind blew mercilessly through her hair.

Jim Kirk had been right. The ocean _was_ the first unknown territory to be tamed. Before luxury yachts and cruise ships soared across the seas and long before man had gotten a rocket into space, these perilous waters were met with fear and trepidation for the few brave sailors that dared to get across the world.

She smiled ruefully at the recollection of a first year history lesson. Seamen were extremely superstitious and it was considered bad luck to bring a woman aboard a ship. Now Starfleet had men, women, and many non-humanoid candidates climbing into those starships and soaring up into the sky.

Christine realized that she disliked the feeling of fabric against her skin. On any other night she would have wanted to remain dressed but tonight the clothes seemed to restrict her body. With rather unusual zest she unbuttoned the clasps on her tunic. The cool night air tickled her skin deliciously when she pulled it off her shoulders and discarded it on the ground. No one could see her from the conservatory and the nearest house was at least half an acre up ahead. If there was ever a time to suddenly give into the urge to strip, now was the right opportunity.

She began removing the rest of her clothes; first her drawstring pants and then her bra and underwear. Christine even took off her bracelets and earrings—she wanted nothing that smacked of materialism on her body. The sight of the slender pale woman in the nude would've made male cadets hoot and cheer with delight but with no one around and not a stitch of clothing on her, the brazen silence was wonderfully free. She stood there on the beach, shivering slightly and feeling elated.

Christine strode right into the sea and plunged into the water. It was mildly warm this time—unknowing to her, some private homes up ahead had their sections of the beach heated up with underground thermal tanks so swimming wouldn't be such an unpleasant experience.

Remembering what Jim told her, she kept her head in place and began folding her arms one after another to cut through the water. When the swell of a wave rushed up and threatened to knock her out, Christine took a deep breath and plunged under the wave. She felt water rushing overhead but the terrible blast that had nearly drowned her last time did not capsize her this time.

When she resurfaced, Christine realized she was treading water in the exact same place as last time. She could still see her pile of clothes on the beach. Feeling very satisfied with herself, she began floating on her back and letting the waves bob her up and down. There'd be time enough to get back to campus that night. For now she was enjoying herself immensely.

She had tamed one small part of this vast frontier and it felt damn good.

A-A-A

_An hour later:_

"Where you trying to drown yourself?"Ben hollered.

"Was it something Beru said?" Janice added.

"How do you feel?" inquired Gaila.

The trio sat hunched on a bed looking at their friend. Hair sopping wet, clothes still damp on her re-dressed body, and a towel around her shoulders, Christine Chapel answered her friends with a silly grin on her face.

"No, yes, and alive. I'm going to do it again tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

The skinny dipping experience had been a one-time occasion. But at least three times a week after classes Christine would trade in her crimson uniform for a bathing suit and head out to the bay waters.

Sometimes she'd go with Janice and other cadets while other times she'd go by herself. After two weeks of getting water in her ears and nose, Christine began to feel a constant rhythm whenever riding on the waves and perfecting the butterfly crawl. She discovered that she could tread water for long periods of time and keep an eye out for any incoming tidal waves, plunging underneath them just in time to avoid a head-on collision. The water seemed to clear her mind of any stressful recollections. She began swimming further and faster as the semester went on.

The constant exercise and fresh salty air increased her appetite. She'd come back to the mess hall feeling refreshed and heartily dig in to the prepared hot meals waiting for ravenous cadets. After chatting with her friends over dinner Christine would take a hot shower, climb into her clean little bed, and fall into a deep relaxed sleep.

Gradually Christine's body began to change. Her legs became toned from working out and her ribs didn't stick out of her sides anymore. Her face became fuller, her breasts rounded out, and a pleasant tan turned her skin honey-colored. A few freckles spread across the bridge of her nose and even her eyelashes looked thicker and longer. Gaila had generously given her another bottle of Orion hair lotion so Christine added it to her personal daily hygiene plan which kept the bob cut shiny and made her blonde hair glisten in the morning sun.

A-A-A

_Months later:_

It began like any other ordinary school day.

Christine was in one of the test rooms, a studio stimulated to look like the interior of a Starfleet sick bay. If not for the emergency exit sign and the vinyl paneling on the walls to block out any sunlight, she would've sworn they were already on a starship.

She and five other cadets were taking notes and watching the instructor demonstrate the inner chambers of the Cormethian heart valve. She was trying to be attentive but the intense heat of the room was making her sleepy and irritable. Christine shifted from one foot to another, trying to listen to the instructor and all the while hoping the session could end faster. She wanted to rip off her uniform and go plunging into the ocean. Was her jacket always this tight across the chest? Did her feet pinch up this often?

"After clearing the passage it is necessary to keep the heart at an even steady rhythm and maintain an exterior temperature of 82.7 degrees Fahrenheit. The smallest and most delicate chamber of the heart is a first priority and it is called..."

The instructor glanced at his students, waiting for an answer.

Christine's hand wiped a strand of sweat from her forehead and she waited for someone else to respond. No one did. Reluctantly, she raised her hand ever-so-slightly to avoid detection of the sweat that was staining her underarms of the jacket.

"Is it the vascular proton chamber, sir?" she asked.

"Correct."

After what felt like an infinity of standing in the testing room, a few musical bells chimed to mark the end of the period. Christine skipped out ahead as quickly as possible to avoid the rush of students who were only too eager to get out of the humid chamber. Once outside she undid the buttons of her jacket and began fanning the red shirt underneath against her body. The afternoon breeze was a blessed welcome on her damp skin.

"Ow!" she cried out suddenly. The sharp point of a PADD had jabbed into her arm, almost knocking her off balance. She staggered sideways in time to see Beru Noir slip the PADD under her arm and stroll off towards the dormitories.

"I just don't get that girl," a fellow cadet remarked with a shake of her head. "She can rattle for hours on about shoes and jewelry but once in class the only thing Beru knows about is making us miserable."

"She should be expelled," someone added.

"Yeah, when hell freezes over. The Noirs fund Starfleet with the best space equipment in this sector so the rich family calls the shots."

"I don't care. Someone's gotta do something about Beru!"

"And someone will," Christine muttered under her breath. Maybe it was the constriction of her clothes or just the time of the day. But for once she wasn't feeling so sweet or polite. She hadn't said a word to anyone else about the ruined uniforms or humiliation at the conservatory or even reported Beru to the other instructors.

But now the irritancy that boiled up inside of Christine was so strong that she was determined to give Beru a piece of her mind...if not a fist to the nose.

A-A-A

Beru was clad in a sequined cocktail gown and putting on the finishing touches of her makeup when the panel door slid open. Christine had taken off her jacket and was carrying it over an arm, the other hand placed firmly on her hip. Beru didn't even look up from the vanity counter. She spoke to Christine's reflection in the mirror while swabbing her eyelids in blue powder.

"Well, well. If it isn't the Chicken of the Sea," she drawled out. "I hope you bath after all that crazy swimming. Boys don't like girls that stink of fish."

Christine just stood there, azure eyes blazing into the back of Beru's neck.

"If there's something you want to say then speak up. I'm having dinner with the mayor in twenty minutes."

"Yes, there is something I want to say to you." Christine took a step forward. "Why do you go out of your way to torment us? Does it actually make you feel good to humiliate other people?"

"Yes," Beru answered tartly. "It does."

"And what if you were the one being picked on? Still think it would feel so good?"

Beru, who had been lining her mouth with a thick red gloss, glanced back at the other girl's reflection. She was trying to smack her lips together and feign disinterest but Christine could tell she was listening.

Christine straightened up as tall as she could. Reminded of Mrs. Donovan's short but efficient lectures she spoke firmly and candidly.

"I have a piece of information that might enlighten you, Beru Noir. Saying that someone else is ignorant, ugly, or pathetic will not make you any more intelligent, pretty, or productive. You may _feel_ different after insulting someone but the facts remain the same."

Noir slammed the tube of lipstick down on the table fiercely and turned around to face Christine. "Oh really? And what are the facts?"

Christine took another step closer.

"You have a diseased ego. And if you were paying the slightest bit attention in class then you'd know people get nauseous from being around someone with a diseased ego. It makes them sick. You can't buy someone's respect the way you buy Centari diamonds."

Christine never imagined Beru would throw herself out of the chair and stride up to her, red hair flaring around her face like a lion's mane. The words spit out of Beru's mouth with venomous hatred.

"How _dare _you speak to me like that!" she shouted at Christine, shaking a finger in her face. "You, the Ms. Perfect of the advanced classes! You have no idea what I have to put up with! You have no right to tell me how I feel, or that I have a-a-diseased ego," she sputtered at last.

"I have as much right as anyone who paints my uniforms," Christine shot back.

"Of course, your precious uniforms. You must _love_ Starfleet to death," Beru sneered. "You're such a goody two-shoes. But what about me? Do you think I like being in Starfleet? Facing dull classes and these awful uniforms day after day? Not getting a chance to breath or think or ever _say _what I want? I hate it here! I goddam hate itand I _hate_ you! "

She finished the tantrum by stamping the floor with her foot and then collapsed into a chair, out of breath and flushed from screaming.

Christine remained still and numbed in place. She was too surprised at this new side of Beru that seemed to have exploded out of nowhere, revealing a new side to her personality. She had no idea how much Beru was hurting inside…or what had brought the fit on.

In a calm voice she asked, "If you hate Starfleet so much then why are you here?"

Beru hit the side of the chair with her fist. "Come on! An insignificant person like you can't imagine what it's like coming from a family with such high standards. My goddam father didn't think I was getting enough stimulation on Centari. Thought I could 'build character' if he put me on the first shuttle to California and sent me to a fancy school."

She seemed to be talking more to herself than Christine but the young woman continued to listen attentively.

"Imagine it. Me, Beru Noir, in a military academy." Beru gave a short bitter laugh. "I'm not a solider or an engineer and I never will be. Zipping around the cosmos in some crazy ship with Klingons firing at you while someone hurls into a bucket every ten seconds? Never. I wasn't made for this kind of a life. I love beautiful clothes. I like having a good time at parties and rubbing elbows with important people. That's who I am and if nobody likes it then they can go to hell."

She threw one last glare in Christine's direction. "So now you know, little miss perfect. Now get out of here so I can stew in the rest of my miserable life."

Christine did not leave. She did not speak or move for thirty seconds. To think that all this time Beru had been tormenting Christine because her own life was fractured and unfulfilled. She actually felt sorry for the red-headed girl. Her own family didn't support her at all. She probably didn't have any friends in Starfleet, at least friends as good as Janice-

"You heard me. _GET OUT_!" Beru screamed. "Or do I have to throw you out myself?"

In the softest tone she could muster Christine asked Beru, "Why don't you go to New York City?"

Beru's head swiveled around sharply. "Why the hell would I do that?" she snapped.

"Janice Rand is from New York City," Christine explained. "She says it's a busy metropolis. You could move there and you wouldn't have to worry about what your father says."

"I _would_ worry," Beru retorted. "If he found out I dropped out of Starfleet, I'd be disinherited. Cut off without a credit to my name."

"So get a career of your own and do what you want," Christine insisted. She couldn't believe she was giving Beru advice but somehow the idea seemed logical.

"You could use your family connections to get in touch with people on the East Coast. It's a very glamorous place."

Her words must have done something because Beru seemed to have calmed down a little. Instead of yelling at Christine she was starring at her with a dazed expression. For once she seemed to be taking Christine's words seriously.

"It can't be any worse than Starfleet, can it?" Christine pointed out. And then to add just a note of optimism she added, "New York _has_ to be better than here for you."

Beru did not give her a direct answer. She stood up straight and smoothed out her dress to compose herself again. One hand reached up to remove a wisp of stray hair that had fallen into her face. Within seconds her calm mask of a social woman was in place instead of a shrieking cadet.

"I'm going to be late," she announced in a strained voice. She wrapped a heavy fringed shawl around her shoulders, picked up her purse, and walked out of the room without giving Christine another glance.

A-A-A

_Two days later at __Starfleet Student Medical Clinic:_

"The only reason your uniforms are so tight is because you've grown so much," explained the female physician. She motioned for Christine to step off the body scanner and line up against a wall.

"Hmmm, yes." Her blue intennas waved in the air while she glanced at the computer screen monitoring Christine's vital signs. "You were almost 18 when you entered Starfleet so...now you're 19?"

"Nineteen and a half, ma'am," Christine answered. "I get my license for medical training in a few months."

"Tsk tsk, but you forgot to attend your own checkup last year," Dr. Quami chided her with good nature. She clicked her tongue while she read off the vital signs. Aside from slightly calloused feet, Cadet Chapel was in remarkably healthy condition and looked tenfold better than when she had first arrived at Starfleet. The retina scanners revealed clear blue eyes while her teeth were white and strong.

"Dear me, nearly four inches taller and you've gained some weight nicely. I thought I saw a bloom in your cheeks when you walked through the door. What on earth have you been doing lately, Ms. Chapel?"

"Nothing, just swimming and eating and sleeping."

"Well, keep up the good work. You're in fine shape." Dr. Quami picked up a sonic tape measure and wrapped it around Christine's waist, then her chest. "Hmmm, somebody's grown some nice curves as well. You'll need a new uniform jacket. Size R-291 should fit just fine."

She handed Christine a laser-imprinted card and instructed her to the next building for a refitting. The girl behind the counter at the uniform's office read the card Christine gave her and nodded in approval. She instructed Christine to stand behind a wall panel and began handing her new clothes to try on.

Christine pulled on the larger size R-291 jacket and was doubly grateful when the buttons secured smoothly down the front instead of straining at her chest. A uniform skirt that once hung loose on her hips now wrapped around them sensuously...and she did have curves? Christine ran her hands up and down her hips. They didn't go straight but moved in and out when shaping her figure. Yes, those were definite curves. The new uniform seemed to hug her body in certain places that she hadn't noticed before. The clothes felt form-fitting yet comfortable.

Her feet had grown too. Size 585-4 boots were slid back to the panel for her to try on. Christine's toes wiggled happily at the free space inside her new roomy footwear when she slid them on and zipped them up to her calves.

She was pacing the floor to get a feeling for her boots when Christine heard the girl at the front desk murmur to her peer. "Another dozen cadets just last week. Dr. Quami thinks it's just a flu case but nobody knows what's causing it."

"I hear you. Last week Akiko came back after her weekend in Napa Valley and spent half the night throwing up in the lavatory."

"So it's not just on Starfleet campus?" the first girl asked.

"Haven't a clue. But a lot of cadets are getting sick."

"Next thing you know they'll insist on those old-fashioned condoms..."

"Sex doesn't kill you, N'yota!"

"I know it doesn't so what is?"

The conversation piqued her curiosity but Christine was eager to get out of there. Taking up the heavy bundle of new uniforms, she dumped them into the sorting compartment and waited at the other side. A wrapped package stamped with the Starfleet insignia popped out in five seconds.

When she marched out of the office Christine noticed a few male cadets looking in her direction at the doorway. Not so long ago she would have tried to keep her head down and avoid their attention.

What if she tried something different? After all, they weren't in class. Nothing wrong with trying to acknowledge her presence, was there? She lifted her head up and walked by them, her skirt swaying casually around her legs while she made proper eye contact. Christine was a foot away when she murmured a "good afternoon" and gave a polite nod in their direction.

She had almost reached the doorway when one of them swiftly rose up and approached her. If he was wearing a hat he would've tipped it in her direction. Instead he stood up straight like any good Starfleet officer and gave her a friendly grin.

"May I carry that package for you, ma'am?" he offered politely.

The smile on her face was radiant. "Yes, thank you. That's very kind of you." She handed him the parcel and he tucked it under his arm. She was rather pleased—and extremely surprised—when he offered his arm to her. Linking her arm around his, Christine strolled out of the office with the cadet.

"Damn," one of the boys said out of earshot. "How _does_ Sulu do it?"

A-A-A

_Five months later:_

Christine had finished her studies and was pondering what to do for the rest of the day. She had caught up with her computer data programs, finished cataloging various antidotes for Dr. Perry, and taken her early afternoon swim. Gaila was out sick and Janice had taken a day trip to St. Louis for another art show so there was no one she could anticipate joining her.

Her chair swiveled to the stuffed elephant in purple slacks that lay on her bed, a belated present from the children of the Sanctuary House. It has arrived yesterday along with a miniature snow globe and some handmade cards wishing Christine congratulations on her birthday. But the most appreciative gift was from Mrs. Donovan's last transcript. She had informed Christine that everyone missed her but they were extremely proud of her accomplishments at Starfleet and sent their blessings.

Christine picked up the elephant and hugged it to her chest. "Looks like it's just you and me tonight, Sumatra. Not much of a party, huh?"

The panel on the wall flickered, causing her attention to shift to the monitor screen. It was none other than Lieutenant Uhura. Christine quickly tossed Sumatra onto the bed and let her in, wondering what was wrong this time or if Ben had finally faced doomsday.

To her relief the lieutenant's face was calm and controlled. In fact she looked rather pleased.

"I don't know how you did it or what you even did to her," Uhura began. "But we all think you should get a medal anyhow."

"I beg your pardon?"

"At twenty-two hundred hours last night, Beru Noir left Starfleet campus for good. Rumor has it she said she was heading east," Uhura announced.

"A-are you sure?" Christine stammered. She automatically felt a weight of concern lifted off her chest when Uhura's news hit her ears but was still in bewilderment at the possibility that the woman who had tormented so many cadets was finally gone. It was almost too good to be true but Uhura went on to confirm her report.

"Positive. Her dorm room was cleaned from ceiling to floor and she canceled all of her courses." Uhura rocked back and forth on her heels. "A couple of cadets from Advanced Biomedics said they saw you heading to her quarters after class. What on Earth—or on any planet—did you do to get her miserable annoying backside off this campus?"

"That's my little secret," Christine answered with a relieved smile. Uhura returned hers with one of her own.

"Frankly, I think Starfleet should order a new code of respect for cadets who successfully remove pests. In the meantime, how'd you like to get a drink at the White Lotus?"

"That's um...a bar, right?" Christine winced. Liquor had never been one of her preferences.

Uhura put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. "I had a feeling that you're sharp as a tack and a decent person. I like that. But you've got to take off those training bloomers, Cadet Chapel."

"Christine. Please call me Christine."

"N'yota Uhura." The words flowed off her tongue smoothly. "Don't call me Lieutenant," she insisted. "Makes me think everyone's afraid of me."

"Well, you _can_ be scary at times," Christine admitted.

"Ben Harrero? Oh right." For once, Uhura looked sheepish. "I guess I did get carried away with myself before the competition. But he sent me a bunch of carnations and penned an apology letter all by himself when I got back. I couldn't refuse him after that."

"As for the bar," Uhura went on. "I know a nice place in downtown San Francisco. It's actually more of a lounge: low-key but upscale. I promise not to get you drunk or start gambling. I'm no slacker myself and you can trust me."

"I already do," Christine assured her.

A-A-A

The White Lotus was not some back alley booze diner. It was situated next to a local park and had several windows open, allowing the sweet scent of flowers and late afternoon air to breeze into the room.

Only a few patrons were around when Uhura and Christine arrived. It was still considered too early for "happy hour" to being so the sight of two stylish cadets in red uniforms did not attract cat-calls or brazen remarks. The few businessmen continued discussing work over cocktails while a pair of tourists—who looked like newlyweds on a honeymoon—were quietly sipping drinks on the terrace.

"What do you think?" Uhura asked Christine.

"This is really nice," she complimented. Christine slid into a plush leather booth and watched several spheres glow soft lavender light as they flitted around the room. "Electromagnetic energy, right?"

"Right. They say it adds to the atmosphere." Uhura sank into the next seat and brushed her long hair off her neck. "They do poetry slammings every Thursday night too. Although during my first year I was always going to any sound shack across the country with friends. I'd come back with headaches."

"Then why did you do it?"

Uhura shrugged. "Social expectations, I suppose. When you're outgoing people expect you to stay that way. So instead of listening to my conscience I'd get in the spotlight, grab a beer, and flirt with anyone who looked at me." She paused and added, "I should've calmed down a bit."

"But that's over now. You're a lieutenant and you know better," Christine pointed out. Uhura gave her a nod of approval and waved to a waiter.

"Bachi," Uhura called out "Come meet my friend. Christine, this is Bachi Ko. Bachi, Christine Chapel."

An eight-foot tall creature lumbered over to their booth, the vibrations from his heavy footsteps causing the drinks on the tables to quiver. Bachi was a cross between a giant ape and oversized teddy bear. Humanoid in physical creation but sprouting thick tuffs of orange hair on his arms, face, and chest, he beamed down at the two girls.

"Nice to meet you," he boomed in a loud voice. "A friend of Nyota's is a friend of mind." His paw gripped Christine's hand in a numbing shake that shook up to her shoulder.

"So, what'll it be ladies?" Bachi asked. "We've got a special tonight, the Port of San Fransisco. It's sharp but sweet."

Christine was concerned about ordering anything stronger than lemonade but Uhura seemed to know what she was doing. "Sounds good, Bachi. We'll take the special. And a fire tea for my friend here and two Slushos for me."

"Am on it," Bachi nodded. He lumbered off with their order while Uhura turned back to Christine.

Eventually the discussion fell onto similar interests and experiences. Uhura mentioned that another Noir was in her linguistics class and had shown certain disdain for the lieutenant, which made Uhura only more determined to outdo her in class. She agreed with Christine on the merits of swimming although her opinion of Jim Kirk was slightly less-than-friendly. The Oxford Linguistics Competition, for the record, had been a triumph for Starfleet. Uhura was honored with a gold rating for flawless dictation in sub-space levels.

"That's fantastic. But what does a gold rating do for you?" Christine asked.

"It's a merit of approval to work with the most prestigious crews. And that's my goal. I want to serve on the finest that Starfleet has to offer." Uhura folded her arms on the table. "And what about you? Have any favorites that you'd like to share?"

"I guess any starship will do—" Christine began to say.

"_Any_ starship?" Uhura nearly threw up her hands. "Christine, 'any starship' means you could be working on some hunk of scrap metal in an unknown sector of the galaxy. They rank according to size, materials, and commanders on board. You have to make it clear that you deserve to work with the very best."

"I guess so," Christine admitted. "I've never really thought about it much. My biggest priority is knowing that I can work with doctors who trust and respect their staff."

Uhura nodded in approval. "Is there anyone that meets your standards?"

Christine thought hard for a moment. "I like Dr. McCoy, because he's honest and sincere in his work. I think he'd be a good mentor but I haven't had any training with him since I got into Starfleet. And besides," she added with a shrug. "The doctors choose the nurses and assistants for their starships—not the other way around."

"Overlords calling the shots, eh?" Uhura said.

Their orders came soon. Fire tea was a delicious cinnamon brew that burned her throat a little but warmed Christine down to her toes. Uhura showed her how to drink a Slusho and rub your tongue across her teeth so it made electric blue sparks spurt out of her mouth. The special from Bachi was a concoction of ruby port and cherry cordial. _Not a bad birthday outing after all, _Christine thought happily._  
_

"You're studying medicine. Do you have any idea why Starfleet cadets have been getting sick?" Uhura inquired.

"I've thought about it. Gaila's your roommate, right? I heard she's also at the clinic."

Uhura nodded. "She said she was feeling ill the other night."

"Well," Christine twirled her spoon around in the dish. "I've asked a few cadets what they were doing before they got sick: where they went, what they ate, who they were in contact with. So far all I found out is that they were cloud jumping a day or two before getting the symptoms."

Uhura looked up from her Slusho. "I'm surprised you know what 'cloud jumping' is, Christine," she smirked.

"I _am_ a Starfleet student," Christine replied as-a-matter-of-fact. She knew what the taboo term for sex was among other students even if she didn't participate in the mentioned activity. Yet.

"Although judging from what I've learned in classes I don't think this is a sexually transmitted disease. It's got to be something else." Christine added. "Would you mind letting me see your dorm room? I want to see if Gaila had any clues around."

"Sure thing, Nancy Drew."

They quickly finished their drinks, paid, and thanked Bachi before leaving the White Lotus. Then girls headed back to Starfleet campus where Uhura let Christine into her dormitory room.

Christine noticed that Uhura's area was neat as a pin while Gaila's room left much to be desired. She carefully stepped over pairs of lingerie in soft pink and purple colors and almost upset a table crammed with various perfumes. The floor was littered with collectable figures, romance audio files, sound chips for music, and several food wrappers.

Christine turned over the tangled sheets on the bed, looking for any evidence. Lying on the mattress was a half-eaten box of chocolates. She picked it up and read _Casparus Love Box: Sensuously Daring Sweets _off the label.

"They say chocolate and sex go hand in hand, right?" Uhura asked from the doorway.

Christine opened up the box and sniffed. There was a bitter scent of almonds in the paper that overpowered the usual fragrance of cocoa. When she rubbed her hand over the lining a reddish-brown powder stuck to her fingers.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," Christine admitted. She continued rubbing her fingers together. "But it's not supposed to do that. In the meantime don't let Gaila or anyone else eat this kind of stuff."

A-A-A

_Student Botany Laboratory of Starfleet Academy_

Jim Kirk casually strode through the back hallways with a wandering eye examining the equipment. He wasn't used to coming to this place (the tool sheds and archive library where much better hiding places) but he had to admit it was rather interesting. Now he could see what they were actually messing with around here behind the scenes. Pushing aside a giant green leaf, he followed the sounds of a conversation.

"As I was saying before, the term 'darmek' does not mean 'cure'," a crisp nasal voice was explaining. "Darmek' refers to any combination of two or more organic materials that can prevent respiratory diseases."

"Does that include Vengra oil?"

The unmistakable tone of Christine Chapel's voice was almost melodious in contrast to her colleague. Jim glanced around a corner to see the student wearing a heavy orange smock over her uniform and massive rubber gloves up to her elbows. She was in the process of snipping off a few small blue tube-like plants with a pair of sheers.

Her companion shook his head while the tassel on his cap wiggled back and forth excitedly. "Not exactly, Cadet Chapel. Vengra is extracted mostly for the relief of congestion. But it is an affective resolution for coughing and wheezing, not to mention Vengra's ability to grow in hostile climates."

"Not to mention their ability to regrow the following year," Jim piped up. "It's called asexual reproduction." He looked at Christine with a grin, who returned his gesture with a smile.

"Jim, I'd like to meet Professor Usimarit. Professor, this is Cadet James Kirk."

Usimarit's own rubber glove came off revealing a three-pronged hand that shook Jim's politely. "Delighted to met you. Cadet Chapel and I have been discussing particular herbal extractions that will be useful on long space voyages. Not only does Vengra oil help with whooping cough but it is excellent for refreshing one's skin."

He gestured to the blue tubers. "Would you care to have some massaged onto your face?"

Before Jim could respond, a data monitor on the wall began beeping rapidly. The professor skimmed the request before turning his attention back to the cadets. "It seems that I'm needed in Greenhouse 17. Cadet Kirk, would you be so kind as to assist Cadet Chapel with the rest of the Vengra? It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."

"No problem," Kirk assured him. Once the professor was gone, Kirk slipped on a pair of gloves and turned to Christine. "What do we have to do?"

"Just keep clipping the Vengra at the base of their stems." She handed Kirk a pair of sheers. The two of them snipped the azure stalks in silence for a few minutes until Jim lowered his voice.

"You wanna tell me why you really asked me to come back here?"

"I need to ask you for a favor," Christine whispered as softly as possible.

"What kind of favor?"

"Let's just say 'out of sight, out of mind'. Janice said you know how to override Starfleet security banks. Is that right?"

"Yes. But-"

Jim suddenly looked serious. "Why you need to look at the security banks? Are you in some kind of trouble, Christine? I wouldn't want to screw up any chances for your future at Starfleet."

"It's not for me. This is far more important," she explained. Christine cupped a hand to Kirk's ear and whispered urgently, taking pains to make certain they couldn't be overheard. When she was done, he nodded very carefully at her.

"All right, I see your point," he agreed. "But are you sure you've tried other options?"

"I have," she insisted. "The local Starfleet doctors think it's not a student's business to interfere. This is the only way I can get all the evidence I need to find out what's behind this 'epidemic'."

Jim extracted a few more plants while he mulled it over. "I can build the mechanism in a few hours," he finally said. "But you have to promise me that you'll be careful."

"I will," Christine promised him.

A-A-A

_Later that night:_

"Shhh, we're gonna get into trouble!" Christine whispered between clenched teeth. While she hushed and tiptoed down the corridor, Janice Rand giggled and winked behind her. They had to keep their voices down to avoid detection from the oral scanners. The corridors, usually flooded with sunlight and the sound of laughing cadets, were chilling and ominous in the late hours of the night.

"Isn't this exciting? We're like ancient ninjas," Rand gushed. "Or glamorous Cold War spies."

"I'm serious about this investigation," Christine insisted under her breath. "Eighty one sick students must add up to something."

"Yeah, and they all have one thing in common," Janice smirked.

"It's not 'cloud jumping' and you know that," Christine pointed out. "Something fishy is going on around here. I just need to know if all the cases have something in common."

They continued the rest of the trip towards the security office in silence. Having swapped their boots for thin untraceable slippers, Janice and Christine's feet were barely audible on the smooth tiled floor. At last they reached the appropriate door, and the soft _pidder-padder _of feet stopped. Christine fumbled in her pockets before extracting two small metal cylinders. One of them she placed on the door lock and began fiddling with the knobs.

Janice looked on inquisitively. "How'd you get one of those?"

"Jim Kirk. He said one of them will open up the pass code. The other one is to block the alarm signal so nobody knows that we were here."

"And how does it block a signal?"

Christine shrugged. "I'm not sure. He said it 'jams' the auto-waves, somehow." Engineering was not Christine's forte. She was just going to have to trust Kirk's word on it.

"I can't believe you actually asked Jim Kirk for help," Janice murmured. She watched Christine's fingers nimbly turn the lock just as Kirk had instructed her. To her relief, it slid open without hesitation. Christine stepped into the room, her eyes flitting over the various computer screens that lay blue and blank.

Christine sat down in front of a computer and attached the second metal cylinder to the hypo-drive. When the screen flashed from blue to the Starfleet logo, she knew Kirk had been correct. Her long nimble fingers began typing in codes. Janice was already pulling out files from an auto-drawer and turning them over.

"Hey, I think I found what you need." She handed Christine a thin sheet of plastic. She had to squint in the computer's hazy light to see what it read. "Is that good?"

"It's very good, Janice. Thanks. I'd hate to think a chocolate factory was behind this but it must be the source of the problem." Christine folded up the plastic file and slipped it into her pocket.

"So, what is the problem?" Janice asked.

"Damianatus," Christine muttered under her breath.

"Dami-what?"

"I'll explain once we get enough record files and are out of here."

While she continued to pull up student health records and download them into her personal information files, Janice continued searching around the room. She pressed a button on the wall and a panel slid open, allowing something to fall on her in a clattering heap.

"Yeeeeeaaah!" Janice howled. Christine jumped up from her seat and ran to her friend's side. Janice threw the object at Christine, making hundreds of pieces clink against each other rapidly. "Get it off me! Get it off me!" she cried.

Christine felt the cold material against her skin and shuddered, too frightened to scream. When something bony and pointed jabbed her shoulder, she realized what had caused the commotion. She gripped what felt like a hollow rod and pulled the object around her. Something on wheels creaked when it rotated to face her.

It was only an old-fashioned human skeleton, one of those silicon plastic ones strung up on a pole that you could exhibit in the classroom. Christine wondered how it had ended up in the security office closet.

Turning the skeleton around, she noticed someone had placed a sign that read FUCK ME on the back in big red letters. _Very funny_, she thought. _I'm not letting a bag of bones get the best of me._

"Come on!" Janice waved her hand madly. "The oral sensors may already be picking up!"

Christine shoved the skeleton aside and ran back to the computer. She quickly closed up all of the files, programmed the computer to shut down, and ripped the jamming device away from the hypo-drive. Janice seized her by the wrist and tugged Christine out of the office room, making sure to remove the other device from the security lock.

The girls skimmed down the corridors as quickly as they could, never stopping for breath until they had gotten out of the building and were running towards the dormitories. At last, when they were a safe distance from the offices, the girls collapsed on the dew-drenched grass. Janice had a hand over her chest and was breathing rapidly.

Christine could feel the moisture seeping into her slippers and socks. She welcomed it. It was a reminder that she was still alive.

"Damn." Janice grinned. "That was scary."

Christine just slid a hand under her uniform to make sure the plastic sheet was still there.

Janice lightly touched her friend's shoulder. "Hey, you okay, Christine?" To her relief, Christine looked only a bit frazzled in her direction.

"Let's not do that again," Christine said at last. "For a long long time."

"Agreed."

A-A-A

_9 hours later:_

The events of the previous night still had consequences for Christine.

She had to get back into her dorm room and reorganize the materials she downloaded on her private computer notebook. Then she had to access a tiny file from Moon 7 and scan all the student records to insure that their symptoms were identical. The sky was already fading from black to gray and birds were chirping when she sealed up the computer screen and lay down on her bed for a half hour of precious sleep.

For once in class she was not paying full attention. The instructor's voice was a monotone repetition of cells and protein cycles that went into one ear and out the other. Christine's eyelids dropped listlessly from exhaustion. She had to rest her head in her hands to appear focused in her desk. As he continued to rant on in the same steady tone, she wondered if she could just take a small nap...

"_CADET CHAPEL, REPORT TO THE MAIN AUDITORIUM!"_

The holovision and announcement that blared over the speakers caused heads to turn and whispers to emerge from the classroom. Christine's head jerked up instinctively. She was suddenly wide and awake and aware that everyone was looking at her.

The instructor's beady black eyes bore into Christine with vicious precision. He was not accustomed to having his lessons disturbed and severely disliked hearing excuses of students trying to skip class—or missing class for any valid reason.

"Did you expect a private appointment, Cadet Chapel?" he replied crisply. Mr. Sevenford was tenfold as precise and stringent as Drs. McCoy and Perry combined.

"No sir," she answered meekly.

The speakers repeated the order. _"CADET CHAPEL, REPORT TO THE MAIN AUDITORIUM IN FIVE MINUTES!"_

"Well, hurry it up and come back within the hour. Otherwise you'll have two demerits to your name," Mr. Sevenford cautioned her.

With a burning red face, Christine slowly rose from her seat and walked out of the room. She stepped through the parting doors and made her way across the vast green lawn towards the designated meeting area.

To her surprise, the auditorium was nearly empty. Thank goodness for that. She wouldn't be able to stand up straight with hundreds of eyes looking at her. Instead there were only four people standing behind a low wide table in the center of the auditorium. Christine approached cautiously, her gaze flickering from one person to another.

One of the people being the table was Captain Pike. She had not seen him since the day he had approached her at the Winter Festival and she wondered why he was at the summoning.

Another person present was Monsieur Jean LeBeau, whom Christine recognized from the health department. A third was a Starfleet supervisor she didn't know, a woman with a smooth oval-shaped face and a sheet of silvery hair to her waist. The shining plate in front of her read COMMANDER ROWEN MCGAIL.

The last of these officers was the tallest of them all, someone in a harsh black uniform with hands clasped behind his back. It was only when Christine ventured close enough did she noticed the long pinkish ears that tapered sharply at the ends. She wracked her brains for a definition.

Vulcan. Definitely Vulcan.

They were rumored to being a brilliant but aloof and intimidating people. This one fit every criteria.

His features were aesthetically pleasing; a combination of youthful visage and mature refinement. He couldn't be more than thirty and Christine found herself studying his alien face with fascination. The shiny dark hair above his high brow was perfectly combed into place. His posture was composed but graceful, the long face angled with sharp cheekbones than narrowed down to a firm chin. Janice would have been ecstatic for the chance to sketch such a dignified profile.

But the heavy slashing brows over his eyes and the immaculate poise of which he stood informed Christine that this person demanded respect from inferior officers. When he noticed her attention, his dark eyes locked on Christine with such an intense stare that she felt a shudder in her stomach.

The sound of the health department manager clearing his throat brought Christine back to reality. LeBeau glanced up from his computer screen and gestured to Christine. "Pleeze seat down, mademoiselle."

She bent herself into one of the rigid chairs and after crossing ankles, placed both hands on her lap. The four officers sat down behind the table and looked at her. McGail removed what looked like a small wooden hammer from a box next to her nameplate and tapped it twice on the table.

"This meeting in now in session," McGail announced as she set the traditional gavel back in its box.

Whatever blood was left in Christine's head seemed to have transported down into her toes.

She was on trial.


	5. Chapter 5

McGail's conduct continued calmly and professionally as if she was reading off the morning news to her peers over breakfast.

Christine, on the other hand, could already feel her heart rate accelerating. She wondered if some anonymous engineer might miraculously transport her out of the auditorium and into the middle of the ocean. She would swim as far and fast as she could and could possibly reach the Bonin Islands by sundown.

"At approximately 0400 hours last night, Starfleet security received an anonymous transmission with evidence supporting the possibility that you hacked into private medical files without permission or consent from a superior officer."

McGail read the information off her solar screen in a monotone voice before looking across the room at Christine. "Is this true, Cadet Chapel?"

Christine realized that McGail hadn't mentioned Jim or Janice in her report. The accusation was only on her. She could take all of the blame upon herself and her friends wouldn't be accused of being in cahoots for—

Then she glanced back at Captain Pike and felt herself shrinking into her uniform. He must be so disappointed with her, especially after years of hard work and productiveness. But how _could_ she betray them?

Christine tightened her arms to her sides and swallowed before speaking. "Yes, ma'am. It's true," she croaked. "I hacked into those files."

"Are you aware of the consequences for violating Starfleet code nine-six-three-four in regard to invasion of confidential information?" McGail questioned her.

"Y-yes, I am."

McGail leaned over her desk. "Do you have anything to say in your defense, Cadet Chapel?"

Christine kept her lips sealed while her mind raced for an explanation. Yes, she had violated a code of Starfleet conduct. But she had not caused damage to public property or threatened the safety of the staff. Her intentions were solely for the benefit of those unfortunate ill students.

She would do her uttermost to explain the delicacy of the matter. "Permission to justify my reason for being there last night?"

"Permission granted." McGail leaned back in her seat and waited for Christine to speak.

The young cadet began tugging down her short skirt in a futile attempt to cover her knees. She was forced to put her hands on her kneecaps to compensate for the lack of protection.

"For some time now I've been getting feedback from my colleagues around campus. Many students have been experiencing fever, headaches, and vomiting. People were quick to call it an 'epidemic' but judging from my medical studies, the outbreaks were too random to be considered the result of a contagious disease."

Deep brown eyes locked onto her in a steady gaze that she could not look away from. "But you did not experience these symptoms yourself, did you Cadet Chapel?" The Vulcan's tone was calm and courteous. But Christine could detect a steely tinge in the back of his throat.

"No I did not. I began conducting surveys in my free time to discover what was causing these random symptoms. When I realized I had insufficient data that's when I broke into the Starfleet medical records."

One eyebrow had lifted up dramatically as if to show disapproval in her actions. "Why did you not report this to the Health and Medical Staff?" the Vulcan demanded.

Fear had suddenly been replaced with a new emotion that gave Christine backbone: determination. She had a valid reason and chose to stick with it, being honest and diligent in her words.

"Sir, I _did_ send several reports to the staff asking them to investigate further. They ignored them, citing cases of slight infections that often break out among students. I have record files of the reports I sent in my archives should you wish to examine them," Christine insisted firmly. "Since the superior medical officers ignored my comments, I began to research on my own based on student feedback and have been trying to come to the most likely conclusion."

"And vat is your conclusion?" Now it was LeBeau's turn to question Christine.

"My conclusion." Christine hesitated before speaking again. Certain subjects were taboo for public conversation but goodness, every Starfleet candidate—officer or cadet-should know what human instincts where whether they called it "cloud jumping" or not!

"While nearly all of the students were having these symptoms shortly after having sexual intercourse..." she paused and was silently grateful that they didn't question her words. "I don't think what is causing the outbreak is related to any sexually transmitted diseases that we aware of. It could be something much simpler such as swimming in the same pool or eating particular foods."

"My conclusion may not be completely accurate but so far, I find the guilty culprit to be a product of Casparus chocolates. The company has been selling a line of confections that suggests it 'stimulates' intercourse. They call it advertising but nearly all of the students who ate those chocolates became sick. I examined some of the products myself and are quite certain that there are traces of hazardous chemicals in the—"

LeBeau cut her off as he frowned in disapproval. "Young lady, are you telling me zat you 'ave been breaking and entering offices to find out zat our students are ill from eating sweets? _Bof_! Zat sounds like a fabricated excuze."

Before Christine could answer the Vulcan had another remark.

"It would explain Cadet Chapel's slight drop in academics this past quarter. Her record has been flawless until the last two months." His shift to the monitor screen must have meant his attention was directed at reading her files. "But this does not appear to be a practical alibi."

This comment sent a surge of unexpected anger through Christine's frame. Was it her fault if her less-than-perfect grades had gone down a few points to help those kids? Blood rushed into her cheeks, turning them from pale to bright pink in a matter of seconds.

"I apologize for violation of code nine-six-three-four and neglecting my studies but nobody else with authority was taking this seriously!" she nearly shouted at her accusers.

The words rushed out of her mouth so quickly that Christine was startled at the echoing effect of her words. Gathering strength from inside, she found herself rising to her feet and looking her superior officers squarely in the eye. It was terrifying to be speaking so boldly yet oddly exhilarating to release her thoughts without regret.

"There's Damianatus in the chocolates," she announced. "It's poisoning the students."

"Damianatus?" McGail glanced at the Vulcan.

"A protein herb found on Vegas Prime 7 mostly used for the cultivation of bamboo," he informed her. "While it does have aphrodisiac priorities, Damiantus can be toxic to humanoids if consumed in large amounts."

"The herb is often ground up and shipped to other planets in a digestible form: a drug. It's illegal on this continent too," Christine added. She knew she was speaking out of turn but was either too animated—or too concerned—to consider the consequences right now.

"I want nothing more than to be a qualified officer and serve aboard a suitable starship. But I must defend myself due to a lack of information and for neglecting health awareness. If Starfleet is so enthusiastic in drilling us to perform in space but neglects to address a crisis that is attacking its very students here on Earth then we seem to be missing something from our ethical code of conduct."

Christine ended her speech by sealing her lips and sitting back down in her seat.

A long moment occurred between them. Was it just her imagination or was Captain Pike trying not to smile? Yes, he _was_ smiling from behind the mouth covering his hand. To an onlooker one might think he was merely contemplating the situation but she wondered what he found so amusing.

The Vulcan's head swerved so quickly it reminded Christine of a parrot. He murmured something to McGail and they spoke in hushed whispers before addressing Christine.

"The accusations you place before Starfleet are slightly opinionated, Cadet Chapel. But your point is logical." If there could be such a thing as approval in a Vulcan's tone, it was there in the most subtle way. "If there is indeed an internal threat to this academy than Starfleet must examine the adversity."

The Vulcan rose from his seat and clasped his hands behind his back. "With your permission Commander McGail, I will be investigating these chemicals further based on the cadet's research. Do you have sufficient data backing up your claims, Cadet Chapel?"

"Yes, sir. In my data notebook," Christine nodded. "Passcode K-3891-Gamma."

The Vulcan now addressed the Frenchman. "Chief LeBeau, it is likely that you and I will have to inspect the Casparus production plant as soon as possible. Does that satisfy you?"

LeBeau's attitude must have had quickly shifted along with the Vulcan because he said, "Of course, Monsieur Spock. I vell let ze authorities know at once."

McGail motioned to Christine. "The matter will be now taken up with the proper authorities, Cadet Chapel." She pounded the gavel twice on the table. "You are dismissed from this hearing. Please return to your classes."

"Yes, Commander."

Reeling from the sudden turn of events, Christine turned around and slowly began walking down the aisle. What on earth had just happened there? Was she off the hook yet?

Soft footsteps were approaching from behind her. She realized Captain Pike had risen from his seat and was walking towards her. "May I escort you out?" he asked. Christine nodded gratefully. The two of them left the auditorium and continued down the hallway. Only when they were safely out of earshot did Captain Pine address Christine.

"Sounds like you uncovered something pretty big that was going down," he said to Christine. "You did well out there."

"Really?" She clasped a hand to her chest. "I thought I was going to pass out."

"Most people chicken out when interrogated by Vulcans. But don't worry," Pike assured her. "I know you wouldn't do anything foolish without a valid reason."

"May I ask if you thought I had a valid reason?"

"I think you did," Pike answered. "Starfleet officers are bound to obligations but as far as medical conduct is concerned, ethics override everything else. If you can save a life then do it. Don't wait to act upon order."

"Yes sir." A thought crossed Christine's mind. "That Vulcan named Spock. Who is he?"

"One of our best officers in the fleet. Although to be politically corrected he's half-Vulcan and half-human," cautioned Pike. "Don't bring it up in Commander Spock's presence."

"Why not?"

The captain's shoulders arched up slightly. "Well, his father _is_ Sarek, the renowned ambassador to Vulcan. And his mother is Amanda Grayson. You may have heard of the Graysons before."

Christine had heard of them before. The Wingate-Grayson Library had been established in their Sanctuary House years ago thanks to the generosity of their illustrious family. But judging from her recent encounter with the Vulcan commander, she found it difficult to believe that he was the prodigy of a _human_ mother.

"I don't know much about society on Vulcan but I suspect, despite all their logic and proper conduct, that they don't accept half-breeds so warmly," Pike went on. "Whatever it was, Spock turned down a prestigious local academy and immigrated to Starfleet instead. And he's done wonders for us here."

Her blue eyes widened with curiosity.

"The reason I am telling you this l is because I trust your confidentiality. I don't need to warn you not to start prattling people's back stories to fellow cadets, especially with regard to Spock's delicate status," Pike cautioned her.

"Of course," Christine assured him. "It's a private and sensitive issue, I understand. But I'll try to be careful in the future."

They stopped walking when they reached the exit and Pike turned to face Christine. "That future may come sooner than you think, Ms. Chapel."

"Why's that?"

"Dr. Perry submitted a list of doctors to be working underneath him at the next Starfleet mission. He chose Dr. McCoy, who in turn selected cadets to pass his inspection before becoming registered nurses."

Pike's expression was unreadable. "Guess whose name was on his list."

Christine's jaw dropped open. "You're joking!"

"No I'm not." He broke out into a smile. "As soon as you pass your final exams you're going to be working on my starship, young lady."

A tremble of delight ran through Christine's slim frame, tingling from head to toe. For months and months she had endeavored and strived for the very best. Now the possibility of soaring into space and reaching out into that vast exterior of stars and planets could in fact become her reality.

"Is that possible?" she gasped, her emotions a mixture of shock and delight. "Isn't it considered favoritism?"

"Like I said, doctors select whomever they think are adequate candidates. But their intentions have to go by Starfleet approval so no one gets an easy pass."

"What about my trial?" Christine asked.

"That's part of the reason I was at the hearing," Pike explained. "Drs. Perry and McCoy got into a spat last week about acceptable cadets. Dr. McCoy wanted you on his staff but Dr. Perry was concerned about your drop in class marks. So Dr. McCoy stated—and may I add quite firmly—that he wasn't getting on ANY starship unless you were on it."

That was the highest compliment she could ever think of even though Christine found the scenario of Dr. McCoy fuming in his southern drawl against cool-headed Dr. Perry rather amusing. "It must've been a fierce competition," she said with a soft smile.

"It was. I just sat in on your case to ensure Dr. Perry that you weren't slacking off on purpose. And now that we have Damianatus as a prime suspect, I hope other cadets won't be getting sick and Starfleet will find out what exactly is going on in the chocolate production plant."

"I already informed Lieutenant Uhura and she's passed on the message to other cadets to stop buying the products," Christine told the captain.

"You did? That's good. Trust me. If Spock is on the case then it'll be over in 24 hours."

Pike bid her a good afternoon and left the auditorium. Christine could feel the presence of someone else lingering by and when she turned around, she saw the imposing Commander Spock studying her from the opposite end of the hallway. For a moment he looked as if he was about to say something but he did not. He merely flicked a speck of invisible dust off his uniform, turned on heel, and walked out.

Despite his flawlessly controlled conduct, Christine's inward empathy suggested emotions that he had not dared to reveal. Half-human, half-Vulcan. Measures of logic and feeling must not be easy talents to balance within one soul and she wondered how anyone could live without being able to laugh, smile, or cry freely.

_He must be very lonely_, she thought to herself.

A-A-A

_FOUR YEARS AGO:_

No sign of disapproval could be seen on Sarek's face but his wife knew by the tightness in his lips that he was less than pleased with his son's decision.

It had been three weeks after Spock had declined a position into the Vulcan Science Academy and hushed whispers were circulating unpleasant rumors about Spock's actions before the High Council. To refuse one of the finest schools on the planet was not considered downright blasphemy—Vulcans were above such petty insults—but it did leave a marring impression on those close to Sarek's family.

Spock was busying himself with the long voyage to earth by assembling his wardrobe into the compact cases that lay around the room. His excuse was the logical one, of course, pointing out a need to be diligent with timing. Inwardly it was a welcomed distraction from his father's inquiries.

"Are you certain of your decision, Spock?" Sarek kept his manner even and controlled as he spoke.

The young man looked up from a chemistry kit he had been assorting by various colors and labels. The gaze he met with his father was steady and calm. "I am certain, father. Starfleet will better serve my interests."

"Your 'interests' may satisfy your personal desire for approval. But on Vulcan your attitude has branded you as a dishonorable student." Sarek's voice hardened ever-so-slightly. "Will you continue to endure in this provoking manner on Earth?"

His cool eyes bore into Spock with such vibrancy that as before in his life, his son could not meet his gaze. He lowered his eyes and glanced at a corner of the room.

"You will not be offered the same privileges as on Vulcan," Sarek cautioned him. "As a foreigner from another planet you must prove yourself worthy to human society. Nor I nor your mother can do any more for you."

Only now did Spock begin to raise his voice in protest. "I ask for no privileges or exceptions in my academic future. If I am to be a candidate of Starfleet then I am willing to accept any consequences for my actions."

"Then your decision is final?" demanded Sarek.

Spock nodded in his father's direction. Sarek, realizing he would not influence his son's choice, whirled on heel. The edge of his robes whipped harshly at his ankles as he strode swiftly out of the room.

Amanda looked at her son and shook her head. She had learned from years of dwelling on Vulcan the value of the right word at the right time. She knew if she intervened then it would only increase the void between Spock and Sarek. Amanda would speak to them separately and with her own skills; a cool head and warm heart.

Not that Starfleet was a "revolutionary" or "fanatic" institution. A respectable military organization established by the Federation was held in high respect across the multitude of planets spanning the galaxy. The variety offered by this new social opportunity might just be the chance her son needed to progress further in life.

Amanda approached her son who was now folding his tunics into perfectly compact squares before packing them away.

"It gets cold in North America," she replied as she picked up one of his cloaks. "Make sure you dress warmly, especially at night."

"Mother I am perfectly capable of finishing up the task," he replied abruptly. "And I am certainly prepared to accept whatever responsibilities Starfleet designates to me." Spock hastily took the cloak from her and began folding it up with more speed than he usually did, a slight sign betraying his inward uncertainty.

"I know, I know," Amanda murmured softly.

Spock stopped what he was doing long enough to gaze at his mother's face. A shiny film of tears had appeared at the corners of her eyes but came no further. He recognized the emotions of sadness and laying down the cloak, took two steps closer to her. His hands gently encompassed her smaller ones as he spoke in a soft even voice.

"Forgive me if I have brought dishonor to our family," he confessed. "It was not my intention to be abrupt before the council."

"It's not that, Spock." A small smile graced Amanda's face when she quickly blinked away the tears. "I'm going to miss you while you're in Starfleet."

She reached up with one palm and ever-so-gently cupped his cheek, a thumb brushing over the smooth skin of his face from his temple to his chin. The caressing gesture caused Spock to close his eyes and lower his head to hers until their foreheads were almost touching. These few intimate moments were seldom spoken of and they had no need to be. Silence alone carried the words that Spock would not permit himself to confess to his human parent; how much love and admiration he had for his mother.

Amanda was astonished at how quickly time flew by. Once her son had been so small and sweet that she could easily bend over and gather him up in her arms. Now he towered over her at more than six feet and she always had to crane her neck up to look him in the eye. She knew he was an agile fighter from years of honing martial arts and his physical strength could overtake any foe within seconds. Yet her son withheld his power and remained gentle and demure as a kitten in her presence.

"Your father is not accustomed to such swift changes," Amanda reminded her son. "But he will understand in time."

She watched his clear brow wrinkle slightly. "Do you approve of my actions?" he asked.

"I am pleased with whatever choices please you, Spock."

"But what is your opinion on the matter, Mother? I must know."

The deep brown eyes of his mother, identical to his own, meet Spock's face. Having pushed away disconcert, Amanda's face now glowed with kindness and wisdom.

"I think it's wonderful that you want to make a life for yourself on a new planet. After all," she smiled slightly. "I did the same thing many years ago."

"Yes, yes of course you did." Spock nodded quickly. With this small reassurance from at least one of his parents he felt more certain of his decision. He was silently relieved to be leaving Vulcan. He had always managed to rise above the petty taunts and squabbles of childhood; he was not ashamed of his birthright and quite confident in his abilities to prove himself to other Vulcans.

And yet...

Somehow the flawless reputation of the Vulcan Science Academy did not seem appropriate to Spock for his academic future. His mind was thirsty for a new option that lay in the possibility of a multitude of individuals rather than the constrictions of a specific society. Starfleet just might offer him what his home planet could not. And he doubted there would be any offensive comments about his "disadvantage" on Earth.

Was he immigrating for his own sake? Or was it for the sake of his mother?

"I have read the audio tapes and examined the holograms about Earth's cultural habits and social skills," Spock spoke aloud. Amanda suspected he was assuring himself instead of her. "And as Starfleet's first Vulcan student, I intend to be as courteous as possible."

"I'm sure you will, Spock. In fact you may be considered more formal and vigorous than most people in the melting pot."

"Melting pot." Spock paused and pondered the words. "A multi-ethnic society coined in the early 20th century when massive waves of immigration flooded North America's borders."

His flawless repetition of information from the databanks caused Amanda to shake her head and smile.

"What I'm trying to say is that you can only learn so much from tapes and computers Spock. Learning about Earth and living on it are two very different experiences. People give way to anger and joy very easily. It may not be logical but it is what defines humanity and makes people unique. Special. Individual."

"It does not seem like a futile mission to me," Spock persevered. She watched him shut the valise clasp shut and with herculean effort, he raised the heavy bag above his head and easily set it in a corner of the room.

"Choosing between Starfleet Headquarters and the Vulcan Science Academy, I find the former is clearly more tolerable and logical in choice."

Amanda could hardly suppress a laugh at her son's comment. The sound of her soft chuckling echoing throughout the room and caused Spock to glance over his shoulder curiously.

"We have another expression for a situation like this on Earth," Amanda smiled. "It's called a 'no brainer'."

A-A-A

_Present day:_

Finals were still three months away but Christine had been jittery for the last 48 hours. She hadn't heard back from Captain Pike, Commanders McGail and Spock, or Chief LeBeau. Had they located the source of the drug? Were her friends going to be all right?

She continued to float on her back, the waves bobbing her body up and down in flowing rhythm. Christine shut her eyes and concentrated on breathing in time to the motion of water lapping against her skin. It felt calming, soothing her overwrought nerves.

She wondered what sort of a nurse she'd make. Accusations about her own performance or conduct made Christine uneasy but when face by a person in danger, she wasn't afraid to extend a hand and help that person. It was always easier focusing on someone else's crisis. And while stimulations in the lab had been messy but she was used to facing the squeamish insides of synthetic bodies and the constant bleeping of computers. The tough part was knowing if she could handle a real-life crisis.

Christine flipped over onto her stomach before breaking out into the breast-stroke. She continued to swim back to shore until the waters ran shallow enough to walk in and then she quickly dried off.

Ten minutes later the shuttle picked her up to take Christine back to the dormitory. While she sat in the small blue seat, her eyes were fixed to the plasma screen that ran quick blips of information off for passengers to watch while traveling.

"_In local news, Jerome Batney and Vernon Qui were arrested by Starfleet police after violating a public health and safety code_," an announcer was saying. Christine quickly leaned closer to the screen to hear the details.

"_The two Casparus factory workers were discovered after mixing traces of hazardous chemicals into the production chocolate line for alien truffles. They had been distributing products to anonymous customers for months now, claiming their 'new and improved' line of cocoa products were 'love magnets'. Traces of the chemicals were found in an abandoned compound along with untraceable credit chips, allowing the possibility an illegal drug ring. __Batney and Qui pleaded guilty while Starfleet continues to investigate the…"_

"How about that?" the shuttle drive spoke over the roar of the engine. "What'll those jackasses think of next?"

"Who knows?" she answered nonchalantly. Inwardly she was secretly pleased and relieved at the news. So Starfleet _had_ taken her words to heart and stopped the problem dead in its tracks. She only hoped Gaila and the others were all right.

Arriving at her dorm room, Christine was surprised to find her door did not open smoothly. Something was jamming the entrance. She pushed the panel as far to the right as possible and was astonished when a polka-dot box fell at her feet. Stepping over the box, she examined the interior of her room.

A refreshed Gaila, ecstatic Janice, and satisfied Uhura were all sitting on Christine's bed while working their way through what looked like a birthday bash. The table and chairs were covered in more boxes and bundles that ranged from rainbow-colored to glowing purple. Several larger boxes had been stacked against the door, explaining the blocked entrance.

"Don't worry. None of these have any of that aphrodisiac crap in them," Janice replied happily. She unwrapped a chocolate and popped it into her mouth. "Cheers!"

"What's going here? Gaila, are you all right?" Christine asked.

"Never felt better," the Orion girl assured her happily. She was absorbed in devouring the creamy contents of a jar and licking her fingers from time to time.

"Just so you should know, Starfleet came down hard and good on Casparus' Chocolates," Uhura said.

"I know, I saw it on the news." Christine kicked a box aside and sat down in one corner that wasn't conquered by female or confection. "So they arrested the troublemakers who put Damianatus in the candy? Did they stop the production line?"

"Yes. Thank goodness, none of the sick cadets consumed enough Damianatus to be considered fatal. The drug doses were small enough to go undetected at the chocolate plant but large enough to make everyone ill," Janice explained. "But everyone's been to the health center to get shots. The drug should drain out of the bloodstream so everyone will feel right as rain at the end of the week."

"And what about Casparus?"

"They make over 2400 products that get shipped to other countries and planets. The truffle line was the only one with this problem and those two goons the only ones stupid enough to try the plan," Uhura added. She waved a hand around the room. "And that's where all of this came from."

Christine gaped in bewilderment. Noticing her friend's shocked face, Uhura withdrew a card that lay under a stack of Toffee Crunch Surprise and handed it to Christine. She opened it up and found a brief but cordial letter.

"_Please enjoy the enclosed complimentary chocolates and sweets and accept them along with our gratitude_," Christine read aloud. "_Sincerely, Armand Zen, president of the Casparus Chocolate Company._"

She threw up her hands in disbelief. "This isn't a 'complimentary' gift. This is half a candy shop!"

"I know," Janice beamed. "Isn't it great?"

Christine turned in a full circle to examine the sheer amounts of decadence and ecatacy that surrounded them. "What are we going to do with all of this stuff?"

"You can forget bringing it aboard a starship," Uhura replied. "Standard rules still apply."

"I guess we're just going have to help Christine dispose of it all," Gaila smirked. "Isn't that what friends are for?"

A-A-A

A lively candy party, followed by a night outing at the White Lotus, made it an unforgettable night for Christine. She returned feeling giggly, giddy, and very amused after several jokes and songs while they went up and down the streets of San Francisco.

The next day she was still recovering from having one-too many chai crèmes when an announcement was heard over the speakerphone.

_"ALL CADETS REPORT TO THE MAIN AUDITORIUM IN TEN MINUTES!"_

For a moment Christine wondered if this had anything to do with her recent trial.

It did not.

But as fate would have it, as she zipped up her skirt and raced across the lawn to the auditorium, Christine Chapel had no idea how the recent events of a Starfleet trial and a madman hovering miles away in his space ship would have any significant effect upon her outcome.

Her life was about to change forever.

She was in the back of the auditorium again. And while she wasn't one on trial and sat there anonymously amidst a sea of red uniforms, Christine's heart went out to Jim Kirk. She felt it aching within as he stood on the podium and had to address the 400 cadets and a clique of judges who made her own trail seem miniscule in comparison.

He had cheated on a strategist test. The accusations against him were high.

_Oh Jim_, Christine thought unhappily. _I thought you were better than that. How could you do such a foolish and wreckless thing?_

His answer caused her opinion to halt, if not sway slightly in his favor. In a calm firm voice, Cadet Kirk addressed his jury. "The test itself is a cheat, isn't it? I realized that after I failed it the second time. It's programmed to be unwinnable. There's no way of saving the Kobiyashi Maru starship so the only way to win is to alter the parameters."

There was not a trace of smugness or defiance in his voice, only the truth. Now that Christine thought about it, he _did_ have a valid point. If you were too lazy to find the solution to a test then cheating was considered immoral and dishonest. But creating a solution where none existed...now that was a creative tactic. One might even call it borderline genius.

However, Kirk's accuser did not share in his theory. From the next podium over, Commander Spock stood indifferent and collected. _Well, this should be interesting,_ she mused.

Christine wondered how the fearless cadet would react in the face of the Vulcan officer, who happened to be the program designer to the Kobiyashi Maru.

"Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario," Spock replied.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios," the cadet shot back.

Spock must've noticed his opponent's weakness because he accused—in the same monotone voice but nevertheless accused—Jim Kirk of lacking in priorities. "Then not only have you violated the rules, you have failed to understand the lesson."

"Please, enlighten me." Jim Kirk's sarcasm was not lost on Christine's ears.

"A captain cannot cheat death." Spock almost looked smug, as if a Vulcan could take pride in denouncing a human's flawed theory. He went on to explain how a captain's obligation was to face the outcome, not to alter the scenario, and he must accept fear in the face of that deadly outcome. At one point in Commander Spock's speech, Christine recognized a comment in regard to Kirk's background and the fatal loss of the U.S.S. Kelvin.

Jim had to compose himself for a moment before speaking to Spock. Christine's palms grew sweaty.

_His father died on a starship to save hundreds of other lives, including his son. You can't expect Kirk to accept that, _she thought. _Can't you understand that? Don't you know what is it to lose a member of your family?_

The meeting was cut short by a message brought to the jury's attention. And when a council member spoke, he had no idea how much the eight words he spoke wre going to have an effect on every single person in the room-including Christine.

"We have received a distress call from Vulcan."

A roar of murmurs rose up from the cadets.

"This is a Red-Alert. All officers are to report to duty stations. This is not a drill—I repeat, this is not a drill. This hearing is at recess until further notices. Assembly dismissed and attendees to report to your stations."

Christine's duty station had been assigned to her during a practiced emergency drill last semester. Dock 15, Row E. She had it drummed into her head in case of an emergency—and this _was_ an emergency.

The auditorium of a lesser-known organization would've been emptied in a messy and disorderly manner. But years of perfecting conduct under Starfleet supervision meant Christine was able to line up among the other cadets in single file and exit in a timely fashion. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jim still at the podium, this time whispering to Dr. McCoy, and felt sorry for him. He had constantly expressed his wish to work aboard a starship and now he might never get that opportunity.

Fate continued to stream the lines of people's futures and obligations with one another like a thread stitching the tapestry of density together.

A-A-A

_Fifteen minutes later:_

The dock was a blur of aircrafts, shuttles, gray and red uniforms. Christine swiped her identification card through the entrance and stood in line near her designated row. Within seconds a squad of 40 cadets surrounded her. An officer in a gray cap stood on a crate in front of the cadets with a PADD to his chest.

"When I call your name, you will step forward and board the scheduled shuttle that will take you to your designated starship. You will disembark and report to your commanding officer."

That was it? Just hear your name and pop and go? No test, no other rules?

The officer looked down at his PADD and began to read off names in a firm clear voice.

"Jentha—_Endeavor_. Rapipo—_Symphony 8._ Wu-_Vocation_. Radowski-_Escapade_."

One by one, Christine watched red uniforms turn on heel and leave the group before walking to their shuttles. She wondered why they hadn't gone back to alphabetization for last names. Perhaps it was more complicated with alien names and random callings were-

"Harrero—_Independent_."

Benjamin's beaming face could be spotted from the other end of the dock. He passed by Christine with the biggest smile of joy on his face and reached out an arm to pull her into a quick half-hug before running off to his shuttle. She lifted a hand and waved her fingertips in his direction, even thought he wasn't looking back.

_Goodbye, my friend. See you in space._

"Bagua—_Ocean Bay_. V'spen—_Entrepid_. Rosenthal—_Valor Yor."_

Three more cadets left the group and walked away. There were still plenty of cadets waiting not-so-patiently for their names to be called. When the officer looked up from his PADD and announced Christine's name and starship aloud, she felt it echo deeply from within her soul.

"Chapel—_Enterprise!"_

No less than eight heads turned in her direction when the officer's words rang in her ears.

"Enterprise, that's the one..."

"Yes, that's it!"

"How'd she get aboard?" one of them whispered to her left.

Christine felt as if her feet were moving of their own accord when she moved away from the group and towards the shuttle designated to take her to the Enterprise. She was only halfway there when she approached another officer working at the controls of a craft carrier. The woman looked up from her work to address Christine. "Is something wrong, cadet?"

"Ma'am, I'm not a registered medical officer yet. I can't exactly serve aboard a starship," Christine explained. "I still have to take my finals for—"

"Cadet, we are operating under code red regulations which means all available hands are to report for duty—certified officers or not. You have five minutes to board your shuttle." The woman shut off her brief message before moving Christine aside abruptly so she could address the next group of cadets.

Christine's feet, once heavy with uncertainty, felt lighter than air. Even in a code red situation, the assurance that her future had not been sealed ominously was a welcomed relief.

"Christine! Christine!" Janice was running towards her and waving her arms madly. She came to a screeching stop in front of Christine and gasped for breath. "Do you know where you're going?"

Christine gripped her friend by the hand gratefully. "I'm on the Enterprise. Is that good?"

"Good? It's very good! Ben's on the Independent, not a bad one either," Janice ranted. She thrust a drawstring bag into Christine's hands. "Sentimental stuff for the trip. Now hurry up, you've got a shuttle to catch."

"What about you? Aren't you coming?" Christine asked.

"Nuh-huh. I've got to stay on the ground for operations," Janice insisted with a shake of her head.

"But-" Christine felt a lurch of disappointment inside. She wished her friend was coming with her; it would make the quick transition a much easier one with Janice's optimism and liveliness nearby.

Janice just threw her arms around Christine's neck and hugged her tightly. Christine felt her insides squeeze up as well when she put her arms around Janice and hugged her back. "Good luck Janice," she whispered into her friend's ear.

Janice broke off the hug and grinned at Christine. "Don't worry," she added cheerfully. "We'll see each other soon."

"Boarding shuttle craft A017, stand by!" an officer yelled.

With a last encouraging nod, the girls parted.

Christine's feet nimbly skipped up the shiny steps and into the shuttle. She had been on one of these before a long time ago and knew what to do. She snapped the belt across her waist and secured it tightly. This time she flexed her arms over her head and concentrated on the breathing patterns they went over in stimulation tests to avoid nausea during flight takeoff.

Her efforts had paid off. The shuttle rose smoothly from the ground and glided through the open dock doors before climbing effortlessly into the sky. Not in the least bit dizzy, but rather tingled with excitement, Christine rested a hand on the window and looked out. The sky was fading from blue to indigo in minutes. In just a short period of time they'd be in deep black space, far away from their beloved planet Earth.

"Some ride, huh?"

She noticed her passerby in the next chair was none other than the young man who had carried her uniforms for her some time ago.

"Yeah," she nodded, not knowing what to say. "I've actually never been on board a starship before," she admitted.

She was surprised when he exhibited friendliness, not disdain at her lack of experience. "First time for everything," he replied cheerfully and then extended a hand. "Helmsman Hikaru Sulu. I'll be piloting the Enterprise."

"Christine Chapel, medical officer."

By now the sky had faded to black and Christine could see dots of stars glittering around the cosmos. Earth was no more than a blue ball swirled with white froth and speckled with green and brown land marks. Had they really just been down there an hour ago?

"Would you look at that," Sulur murmured. The space dock was coming into view, a giant silvery web with protruding arms, each one sporting a starship at the ends. Shuttles were zipping around the huge dock like children around a playground, fast and eager to get wherever they wanted to go.

As they drew closer to the landing entrance, the shuttle glided over the designated ship they were expected to work on. Christine could read the words on the front of the starship in enormous clear black letters that spelled out U.S.S. Enterprise.

It was a beautiful ship. The titanium cover was spotless while the sleek design of the ship meant efficiency but it also represented elegance and taste. It struck Christine how a starship was not unlike a work of art, a masterpiece to be cherished and admired by others.

She was somehow relieved that she never knew what an honor it was to serve on such an illustrious starship. It humbled her immensely.

The shuttle came to a shivering stop inside the space dock. "_Please exit the craft and take all belongings with you_," a voice bleeped. Cadets began unbuckling themselves and climbing out of their seats.

"D'you know where the medical bay is?" Sulu asked her.

Christine glanced around at the other cadets moving rapidly into various loading pods and shook her head.

"No worries. It's usually on a lower deck." Sulu tapped a plasma panel that was on the wall and nodded to her. "Yes, it's deck G4. You just take the loading pod down there and it'll show you where to go."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu."

"My pleasure, Ms. Chapel."

A-A-A

She had gotten lost once but another office had been gracious enough to show Christine to the small yet efficient sleeping quarters. There on the bed lay a medical uniform along with a new pair of boots. She had changed into it within the twinkling of an eye and couldn't resist turning around to see how the uniform looked on her in the mirror.

The uniform dress fit her like a second skin, the synthetic fabric hugging her body comfortably. It was made of a durable material designed to withstand intense heat and absorb human sweat. Christine wondered how well it got blood stains out. She smoothed the front of her dress and adjusted the blue headband.

Christine set her drawstring pouch under a pillow to hide it from prowling eyes before she exited the sleeping quarters.

Once in the medical bay she was approached by an unlikely figure.

"You there!" came the firm commanding voice of Dr. Perry. The heavyset man was waving a pen light in the air and instructing crew members in blue uniforms around the medical bay. Not even bothering to call her by name, he strode up to Christine.

She took the liberty of acknowledging herself. "Christine Chapel, reporting for duty."

"Have you seen Dr. McCoy?" he asked.

"No sir. But I'm eager to get started. What do you need help with?"

Her eagerness and spirit seemed to surprise him but he was impressed with her efficiency. "Well, you can make yourself useful disinfecting our laser drivers and getting them into order. After that, I want all antibiotics removed from the cylinder containers and placed into those shelves." He pointed to a wide tray on one end of the medical bay.

"Yes sir." Whirling on heel, she quickly opened up the drivers and began running them through the disinfecting basin. It was amazing how all of the training she had done in Starfleet Academy was coming back to her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Christine finally spotted Dr. McCoy entering the medical bay. Everyone else was busy buzzing around or listening to Dr. Perry but Christine couldn't stop starring at McCoy. He must have just disembarked his shuttle because the doctor was still wearing his red cadet uniform.

Why he was lugging Jim Kirk alongside was beyond her. Jim's face was sickly green and he was sweating profusely. One of his arms was draped over Dr. McCoy's shoulders while the other hung limp by his side. She opened her mouth as if to call to Dr. Perry but then thought better of it. _Better let McCoy handle this one_, she thought as she continued to line up the antibiotics.

When Christine had finished the task at hand she went back to looking for Dr. McCoy. He must've not wanted to be seen because he had Jim Kirk lying flat on his back at the end of the sick bay where few people could pay attention to them.

McCoy realized he was being watched and rushed over to Christine, his eyes a mixture of alarm and urgency.

"What's going on here?" Christine asked.

To her surprise he took Christine by both arms and pulled her into the corner. "Listen to me. He's not supposed to be here."

"Jim Kirk? Why?"

It took McCoy a matter of seconds to explain to Christine what he had done: injected Jim Kirk with a vaccine before taking him aboard the Enterprise as a stowaway.

"A Mevarian mud flea virus?" Christine couldn't believe her ears. She knew Dr. McCoy had some radical ideas but this was insane.

"Shhh!" he hushed her fiercely. "D'you want Perry to find out? Listen, I just gave Jim an anesthetic and he's fast asleep."

"Doctor, this is—this is highly irregular," Christine sputtered. "You could both be in a lot of trouble for bringing him aboard without permission."

"Yeah, I know." McCoy at least had the decency to look sheepish. "But there was no way Starfleet would let him aboard any ship after that hearing. I couldn't just leave him on the ground looking all miserable and pathetic. This is all he's ever wanted ever since he got to Starfleet. Do you have any idea how badly Jim's wanted to serve aboard a starship?"

Christine could guess.

"You don't have to conspire in this with me. But I'm asking you—no, I'm begging you not to report this to Dr. Perry or the captain."

"What's he going to do aboard the Enteprise anyhow?" Christine wanted to know.

"Oh, if he's Jim Kirk then he'll find something useful to do," McCoy added with a grim nod. "Listen, Ms. Chapel. You were at that hearing. Now Jim's been my friend for three years now and I know he can be narcissistic, arrogant, and downright cocky. But he's damn smart at what he does. If he can beat a no-win test then he's bound to do some good aboard the Enterprise."

She felt herself warming up to the doctor's words but kept her hands on her hips in concern.

"I trusted you, Dr. McCoy. That's why I wanted to work on a starship with you," she said at last.

McCoy sighed and nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry if I betrayed your trust."

"You haven't," Christine assured him. "I'm not going to report you."

McCoy couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

"You're the only reason I'm aboard this starship after all," Christine admitted gently. "And Jim Kirk saved my life last year. So if I tried advancing myself by ratting on you both then I'd defeat the purpose of my existence here. And besides," she added feeling rather empathetic. "I know what it's like to be accused unfairly."

McCoy's face didn't exactly show sunbeams but it came close.

"You're a saint, Christine."

The compliment, along with the tone in which he said her first name, was the best one she had ever gotten yet in her life.

"Now listen to me. Jim should stay knocked out for another hour or so. If he wakes up again, give him this." McCoy slapped a small metal cylinder into her palm. "If we are found out, I won't drag you down with me. I'll take full responsibilities for Kirk's presence aboard the Enterprise."

"If he keeps sleeping like this then we won't have to worry." She glanced back at the cadet who was lost in slumberland.

"In the meantime, I'd better get back to work before Dr. Perry has my ass. Can you take care of this?" McCoy handed Christine a thin rigid sheet of plastic and an electronic pen.

"What is it?"

"Standard Starfleet protocol. Captain has to sign the contract saying medical officers are qualified and he won't interfere with our judgment or work," McCoy explained. "Basically it gives us consent to do our job."

"Sounds fair enough." Christine took the contact and pen from Dr. McCoy. She was about to head for the bridge when he stopped her short.

"Just one more thing," he informed her. "Under red alert conditions, Starfleet cadets can be advanced to suitable positions so they can operate with proper authority. I know you're concerned about not taking your finals yet. But after I heard about your involvement in stopping the Damianatus crisis on campus, there's no doubt in my mind that you were right to be aboard the Enterprise."

"Doctor?" Christine wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"I'm promoting you to a 100% qualified Starfleet nurse with all medical permissions approved," McCoy announced. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Now get to the bridge, Nurse Chapel."

"Yes, sir."

Christine walked off hugging the PADD to her chest and hearing a symphony of music in her head. She was now Nurse Christine Chapel, a qualified Starfleet officer, reporting for duty aboard the maiden voyage of the starship Enterprise.

It sounded just right.


	6. Chapter 6

Christine's eyes surveyed the interior of the Enterprise as she traveled from one deck to another.

Overhead was a labyrinth of metal beams, the crosswalks intersecting wherever officers needed to exit from one deck to another. Everyone had a task at hand, everyone was busy with something to do. Someone almost bumped into her before mumbling a quick apology and then proceeding towards his destination.

She finally arrived at the Enterprise's main control room and fell silent with wonder. The bridge was the epitome of Starfleet taste, design, and technology. Cadets were reading data off glossy panels that glowed with plasma energy. The constant bleeping of lights was heard from the machines where people had been posted to their stations. One chair swiveled forward to address a command while two chairs swiveled backwards to examine the monitor screen.

Christine took a step forward and almost tripped over a small metal bucket and mop that had been placed near the panel door. Whoever had left it there had done so deliberately, although she was puzzled at its presence on the bridge. Everything looked clean and glossy enough as it was. Perhaps more significant was the engraved plaque of an ancient aircraft above the bucket. The inscription read _A-10 FIGHTER JET: U.S. HERCULES 1996_

Despite the slight clunking sound when her boot hit the bucket, few people looked in her direction. She could only see the back of the captain's chair and was uncertain of the protocol. Should she simply approach him or wait for a senior officer's permission?

One chair from the science station rotated around to face her. It was none other than Commander Spock. Christine colored slightly, remembering his involvement in her trial and the Damianatus crisis. The commander, on the other hand, looked cool as ever. The rigidness of his all-black uniform had been swapped for a blue science officer shirt, which Christine thought suited him better. He nodded to acknowledge her presence on the bridge. "Ms. Chapel," Spock said.

"I need the captain to sign this," she informed him, holding up the sheet. "Is he available?"

Spoke looked towards the center chair and spoke in a firm clear voice. "Captain."

The chair did not rotate all of the way but the hand motioned for her to come closer. She approached the captain's chair as if it was a king's throne, keeping her eyes averted away from him. Only when she got closer did she recognize the face of Captain Christopher Pike and feel a wave of relief flood over her.

Pike took the PADD from Christine and began to write his signature along the bottom.

"No regrets coming along, Ms. Chapel?" he asked her.

"No regrets, captain."

"McCoy approves so far?"

"Yes, sir." And with a trace of confidence she added, "He's promoted me to a staff nurse."

Pike was not at all surprised. "Good", he nodded. He signed the PADD and spoke up loud and clear so that everyone in the bridge could hear him.

"Everyone, this is Nurse Chapel. She is among the members of our medical staff who will be attending any Starfleet officers in case of sudden injuries or illness. The sick bay is on deck G4. Report to Dr. Perry if you have any problems." He paused and added, "But don't make a habit of it."

Pike motioned around the room for Christine to see. "I believe you know our first officer, Commander Spock. This is our helmsman, Hikaru Sulu." Yellow-shirted and seated behind the controls, her recent new ally nodded from his position.

Next to him was another young man in a yellow shirt who looked even younger than Sulu. Rosy-cheeked and curly-haired, he couldn't be out of his teens and reminded Christine of a cute puppy.

"Ensign Pavel Chekov," Pike instructed. "Tactics." Chekov gave her a nod and drew two fingers to his temple then pointed them to Christine in a quick salute.

Pike introduced her to a red-shirted officer handling communications who answered with a polite nod, though his eyes were rather distracted by Christine's presence. After Pike dismissed Christine from the bridge she headed for the shaft, unaware of a few male officers who were also distracted from their posts by watching her blue skirt sway to and fro.

"I saw that," Pike warned them.

A-A-A

Back in the sick bay, Christine went to go check on Jim Kirk. He was still deep in sleep, much to her relief. She suspected the moment he woke up he'd start flirting with the other nurses and that would probably send McCoy and himself down a one-way street to the detention room.

The door slid open revealing Dr. McCoy, who had also changed into his blue medical uniform. "How's it going?" she asked while handing him the PADD back.

"Perry should know antibiotics go by region, not alphabetization," he growled like a wounded bear. "Other than being his usual twit-headed self, everything's where it should be. You might as well relax for a few minutes because once we get to Vulcan there's no telling when you'll be able to sit down."

"Thank you, doctor." Christine did just that and sat down on a spare medic bed just as the plasma screen on the wall flickered to life.

The youthful face of the ensign appeared onscreen and he began to speak in a thick but audible accent. "_Your attention, please. This is Ensign Pavel Chekov speaking to you from zu bridge. Ze keptin has asked me to brief you on our rescue meesion."_

"Damnit, can you hear a darn word this kid is saying?" McCoy snapped. "Where'd he learn to speak English?"

Christine just turned up the volume and bent closer so she could understand what he was saying. It took a moment or two to understand Chekov's scientific terms but she managed to simplify it in her head. _"At tvetny-two hundred hours, long range sensors detected an energy surge of astronomical proportions in de Wulcan quadrant. It vas described as a' lightning storm' in space." _

Christine frowned. Weather patterns weren't her specialty anymore than engineering but a "lightning storm" in space sounded supernaturally impossible. Didn't the Federation have technology to watch out for such a storm?

"_Soon after, Starfleet Command received a distress signal from de Wulcan High council declaring zat seismic sensors situated across de entire surface of ze planet ver prediction massive tectonic shifts within ze planet's crust zat could trigger immense earthquvakes and unprecedented volcanic activity."_

Earthquakes and volcanoes, hmmm. At least that makes more sense.

"_Our mission is to confirm ze tectonic shifts and be prepared to assist in evaluations should ze need arize. Please review all report details thoroughly before our arrival. Thank you for your attention."_ Chekov punctuated his report with a sharp nod of the head.

"Lightning storm!" someone repeated her thoughts aloud. Jim had bolted up and was wide awake, wheezing and sweating. He was obviously not as comatose as Christine or McCoy had thought.

"Ah, Jim," McCoy nodded. "You're finally awake."

And then Christine saw Jim raise his hands up to eye level.

"What the HELL is this?!" Jim blurted out. Christine would've laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious. Jim Kirk's hands were swollen to elephant-sized proportions, bulging and throbbing as if he had been stung by hundreds of thunder-wasps. Her inward humor was kept in check by her empathy, knowing fully aware that Jim was in terrible pain.

"A reaction to the vaccine," McCoy concluded quickly. He rushed to the prescription cabinet and began pulling out hypo-needles. "Nurse Chapel, I need fifty cc's of Coritzone!" he yelled at her.

"Yes, doctor!" In the wink of an eye she had seized the capsule of requested medicine and tossed it in his direction. McCoy caught it in his open right hand and began to draw it into the hypo-needle. Meanwhile, Jim was trying to re-play Chekov's message, his awkward hands fiddling with the screen. Judging by his facial expression, Christine realized he was taking this seriously—_very_ seriously. She had never seen him so worked up about anything, not even during his trial.

"Bones, we've gotta stop this ship!" he insisted. "We're headed for a trap!"

Had they two minute to spare then Christine and McCoy would have sedated their agitated patient. But with no time on their hands Jim Kirk had leapt off the table and was running to the exit. McCoy followed after him yelling, "We've got to keep your heart rate down, damnit! Do you want to get us expelled on our first voyage!?'

And just like that they were gone. _Are things __**always**__ going to be this loony around here? _Christine shook her head in disbelief.

If Jim's theory about a "trap" was accurate then they'd have to prepare for a full-scale attack from whoever was attacking Vulcan and waiting for the starships. But if Jim was wrong then he'd be in way over his head.

Insomuch as Christine was going to spend most of the maiden voyage in the sick bay, her curiosity overcame any sensible ideas to remain demure and wait for McCoy and his inflated patient to return.

She reached for a tiny transmitter that was fastened to the wall along with the other medical equipment. In theory Starfleet had patented this particular brand as an "audio action receptor" but the casual term among medical officers was "pin-pod". It was, of course, the size and shape of a pin but its purpose was to be attached to a uniform, allowing the medical officer to be able to listen in on reports while having hands free to do whatever was necessary. Though simple enough in design, its use was effective and helpful.

Christine turned on the transmitter and tucked it behind her right ear, fastening it into her blue hair band. She adjusted the pin-pod and spoke aloud. "This is Nurse Chapel requesting audio communication to Enterprise bridge."

There was a tiny beeping sound and then a computerized voice buzzed into her ear, _"Communication established."_

The static quickly gave way to voices that were rising in the background. It was hard to tell at first but soon Christine was able to identify the people behind the voices and string the sentences together into a coherent conversation. The urgent voice of Jim Kirk was making her feel uneasy while Spock began to disapprove, reminding the captain that Cadet Kirk was on prohibation.

"We're walking into a trap, sir," Jim cautioned Pike. He began to explain, in a hasty but informative speech, that he recognized the "lightning storm" as the same one that attacked a Starfleet vessel on the day of his birth.

"The U.S.S. Kelvin, which had formidable and advanced weaponry, was never seen from or heard again. And at 23 hours last night, there was a similar attack; 47 Klingon warbirds were destroyed by Romulans, sir. And it was reported that the Romulans were in one ship, one massive ship. You know that, sir. I read your dissertation," Kirk concluded.

Christine was slightly perplexed. If this was in fact the same giant Romulan ship that had attacked the Kelvin over 20 years ago and the Klingons just last night…then why had it suddenly struck now? And why had it gone undetected all this time?

"And how do you know about this?" Pike's tone was less-than-approval.

A new voice, sincere but determined, rose up. "Sir, I transmitted the message myself." Relief flooded through Christine when she heard Uhura's voice on the bridge. It was good to know at least one of her close friends had also made it onto the Enterprise. "Kirk's report is accurate."

"We're warping into a trap, sir. The Romulans are waiting for us, I can promise you that." There was no mistaking the genuine concern in Jim's voice: he was certain that doom lay head for the Enterprise.

An uncomfortable silence followed; perhaps the captain was questioning the authenticity of Kirk and Uhura's information.

"The cadet's logic is sound," Spock suddenly spoke up in Kirk's favor. "And Lieutenant Uhura is unmatched in xenolignuistics. We would be wise to accept her conclusion."

_Yeah, you said it! _Christine thought to herself. If Uhura knew something wrong was afoot then Pike would have to get to the bottom of this.

There were some commands issued as Pike ordered Uhura to relieve the communications officer. She was trying to signal other starships surrounding Vulcan…..but there were no answers.

A coincidence…or something worse?

Christine turned to face one of the giant windows stretched across the sick bay. Stars and light were whizzes of gray and white streaks that flickered past the Enterprise.

And then the Enterprise dropped out of warp drive.

What was once a calm trek had turned into a wrecked battlefield. Christine's blood froze in horror, a hand over her mouth to prevent a shriek from escaping her lips. There were no starships waiting for the Enterprise because they had all been destroyed. The battered remains of the ships, once proud and strong crafts of Starfleet, lay in grotesque broken pieces drifting through space like shattered glass. They flickered pass the windows resembling haunted ghosts clawing at the Enterprise for help.

Jim _had_ been right...the Romulans were waiting for them to arrive. But how could one ship have caused so much damage?

A ripped metal plate, all that remained of one starship, drifted by Christine's window. And this time she _did_ shriek. It was the Independent.

_Ben_, she thought horrifically.

Christine slid to her knees, her head bowed in disbelief and sadness. Sweet, headstrong, optimistic Benjamin John Harrero was gone forever. There were so many adventures they wanted to share, so many opportunities they had talked about as young aspiring cadets. In the blink of an eye all that had been ripped from them.

The Enterprise gave an unexpected shudder. McCoy was back in a flash, his face set in fierce determination.

"What's going on?" Dr. Perry spoke up. "And _what_ is that vagabond Kirk doing on this ship?" He spit Jim's name out like a parasite.

McCoy ignored the comment. "Our signal is being jammed by the Romulan vessel. The Enterprise can't access Starfleet command or any other ships. I need to report to the upper deck in case of an attack."

For once, Dr. Perry did not disagree with McCoy. His words must have had an impact because the senior medical officer began ushering his staff around, warning them to get into correct positions if the Enterprise would be under fire.

Christine just looked back out to the window, scanning for any signs of life or hope.

What she did see instead was the Romulan vessel that had come into view after several ripped starship had floated out into space. It could hardly be called a ship; it was so grotesque. The mutated craft was composed of long mechanical extensions of twisted metal that stretched on for hundreds of feet, each one ending in a razor sharp tip. It looked like a metallic monster with tentacles.

It did not take much imagination to picture this ship wiping out the Kelvin and 23 warbirds.

Christine pressed her forehead to the glass and strained her eyes to see better. What looked like a single thread of metal construction was streaming down from the ship and onto the surface of Vulcan below. At least it looked like a thread to her. Up close it must've been much bigger and thicker.

What on earth _was_ that?

She tried adjusting the pin-pod but everyone was talking too fast. It seemed that it was some sort of a drill attacking Vulcan and blocking off their communication at the same time.

She saw tiny pricks of light off in the void of space that were drawing closer to the Enterprise. More ships? No…not by the way they were growing in size and speed. An alarm switched on in her mind.

Missiles. The Romulans were attacking them!

Christine did the first thing she could remember from emergency evasive: drop to the floor and cover her head.

Her wrist had just slipped through the belt as their world shattered. A missile must've slammed into the sick bay because a side of the wall was blasted in and everyone was sent hurling, flying, and screaming through the air. She felt her body go slamming into a wall while chunks of debris rained down on them and hot flames licked at her skin. Christine felt her body bounce across the deck before she came to a rolling stop. She lay there, shaking and numb, too scared to move for fear of being blasted apart.

There was another explosion heard and the room quaked back and forth. Christine tucked her knees into her chest, waiting for the monstrosity to end. But it was over as soon as it had started. Within five minutes the Enterprise had gone from complete to fractured like a toy ship tossed around.

She got to her feet, knees shaking terribly. All around her, people lay groaning and moaning in pain. She saw a metal beam had pinned someone down and rushed over to see who it was.

Dr. Perry had been killed instantly.

The beam must've come across his head. She gulped at the bloody mess smeared all over the once-clean floor in dismay, a once breathing person now a lifeless corpse. His arms lay twisted at an odd angle while his feet were in the opposite direction. She was only brought out of her numbed state when McCoy had come back in, covered in dust and coughing profusely.

"Nurse Chapel!" he ran to her side." Are you all right?"

"I'm f-fine sir," she stuttered, trying to stop her shaking arms. "Dr. McCoy, your eye!" she shouted at him. A heavy gash had ripped above his left eye and blood was trickling down his face.

"It's nothing," he brushed her off. McCoy merely wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, smearing the blood along his temple. "Where's Dr. Perry?"

She pointed to the corpse on the ground. McCoy surveyed the scene looking as dazed and confused as her. Then a voice bleeped on the monitor and McCoy flipped it open.

"_Doctor Perry, this is acting Captain Spock. Report," _came the Vulcan's efficient voice.

_'Acting Captain' Spock_. Christine shuddered inwardly. _Where's Captain Pike? Is he dead?_

"Dr. Perry's dead, sir!" McCoy yelled into the speaker. Christine just stood, numbed as people around them tried to crawl out from damaged areas of the ship. Everyone was moaning and writhing in pain. She knew she had to do something...but whatever that was, it had temporarily fled her mind.

The cool unemotional response of the Vulcan was brief. "_Then you have just inherited his medical responsibilities as chief medical officer."_

"Tell me something I don't know," McCoy muttered under his breath. He looked around and wiped his brow with a sweaty hand.

"_Prepare all bays for mass triage. Get the less seriously wounded back on duty as soon as possible. Spock out." _A crackle of static ended the transmission. McCoy stood up straight again, his teeth gritted fiercely.

The split second of shifting authority seemed to have brought McCoy out of his shock, as well as Christine. McCoy whirled on her, his eyes flashing fiercely in her face.

"Well don't just stand there," he said to Christine. "Get to work!"

Without even a "yes doctor" she began rushing around the room helping officers pry beams off the wounded and moving others onto the gurneys. Now her brain was whirling away, assessing the situation and calling on her years in school to analyze each victim. Get this one off the floor. Someone needs a bandage. Don't move her or she'll strain her neck.

Christine watched the doctor bend over and with unexpected strength, lift a wounded man over onto his back and carry him into the sick bay. The lack of concern for his own status—and the concern he showed for everyone injured—moved her deeply. No sooner had McCoy transported the man to a gurney then he raced back to find the next wounded officer.

"Chapel, give me a hand here!" he ordered her. The stringy teenager of years before would never be able to do what the lithe woman did as she heaved and pulled, helping McCoy to push a heavy beam off another officer's leg. But once it was off, Christine was mortified at the damage done. The beam had sliced through the victim's knee, cutting her leg in two.

"Kneecap's ripped off. We'll have to operate ASAP," McCoy ordered her. The gurney came down and Christine helped him raise the woman onto it. "Oh god! Oh god! I don't wanna die!" she began sobbing uncontrollably.

"Lie still," McCoy ordered her. The next hour was full of demands from the doctor but Christine stayed close by, listening and delivering out his orders. A laser scalpel for someone's eye. 500 grams of anesthesia there. Use the sonar scanner for her head. Start stitching his wrist back together. Wrap the bandage around his torso to stop the bleeding.

She had never seen anyone work like him before and as miserable as the situation was around them, Christine was in awe at the efforts of Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy. He was racing around the medical bay without so much as colliding into another person, ordering a nurse in one direction and a fellow doctor in another. His eyes assessed each patient, tending to the most urgent ones first before moving onto the lesser wounded.

"How's she doing?" McCoy asked over his shoulder. Christine had just finished up restoring a ripped muscle using the laser scalpel.

"There's cartilage damage but she's out of danger," Christine assured him. McCoy nodded and instructed her to move on to the next patient.

"I can't do this! I can't do this!" a fellow nurse shrieked. Christine could see she had started to wipe up the blood from a victim who lay on another table but must have lost her senses because she was too scared to continue tending to her duty.

Christine resisted the urge to shake the girl and merely took the sanitation swipe from her hand. There was no time to waste. "I'll patch him up," she offered firmly. "Can you get me four quadro-capsules from the pharmacy cabinet?"

The tearful junior nurse nodded at Christine and sniffling to herself, she went off to the cabinet. Christine turned to the patient at hand. A chunk of metal must've ripped part of his arm out. The sight of all that lurid pink and red flesh was grotesque and Christine shuddered inwardly. Trying to remember how similar it was to the stimulation test, she assessed the situation. At least he hadn't punctured any critical organs but she had to stop the bleeding fast. The pills would help regain bone structure and as soon as she had the wound clean, she'd be able to wrap it in a self-adhesive bandage.

The officer released a soft moan and his eyes fluttered in her direction. Despite his weakened state and the throbbing pain that seared into his body, he found himself moved by the sight of the woman hovering over him.

"Are you an angel?" he murmured.

"No. And you're not going to heaven just yet," she assured him. Christine took the pills from the nurse who had returned and managed to get the officer to swallow them. Within minutes his arm had stopped losing blood and the bandage was secured in place.

Christine had to move onto the next patient but couldn't resist adding her own touch of effort to the task. It may not have been standard protocol but it _was_ important to her.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Jonathan. Midshipman Jonathan Ben-Lachi."

She squeezed his hand gently as a gesture of understanding. "You're going to be fine, Jonathan. Try to get some rest." The response was a squeeze from his hand.

A-A-A

One hour had turned into two.

They were running out of medical beds and supplies quickly. McCoy had said they'd have to start putting patients on the floor if everything continued at this pace. Christine would've asked what to do but by now McCoy was preoccupied in a lengthy complicated task of repairing the woman's knee up to her stump of a leg. He'd have to use a silicone plate in place of her kneecap and join the fibers of her muscles together, not an easy feat in such cramped conditions.

Without even asking for permission, Christine went up to the intercom and pressed the button. She wasn't the senior medical officer but this _was_ code red status. McCoy could grill her later on.

"_Attention Enterprise crew. This is Nurse Chapel speaking."_ The efficiency of her voice and the awareness that everyone could hear her startled Christine. She had never addressed 400 people at once and certainly not in such dire circumstances.

Remembering the task at hand, she forced herself to speak into the intercom.

"_We are experiencing an overflow of injured officers in the sick bay and require further accommodations. All able-bodied officers with sleeping quarters to spare please report to the sick bay at once. Furthermore, any personal medical supplies to spare are essential in order to assist our patients. Thank you."_

The transmission was heard all over the Enterprise and reached the ears of the acting captain. Inwardly, Spock thought the words "please" and "thank you" were unnecessary in the nurse's request.

_No doubt a result of human emotions and need for gratification, _he mused to himself. Nevertheless, the message was a practical one even if its sender had a tendency to be overly enthusiastic about the welfare of others.

A-A-A

Just as McCoy was going to have to put his next patient onto the floor of the sick bay, the panel door slid open. Christine winced, dreading another flood of patients and tedious work without enough help.

She was wrong.

Chekov was standing in front of a line of able-bodied officers looking fresh and willing to help. There were at least 50 people in total and nearly all of them were carrying their Aid-One Starfleet health kits in hand.

"Ensign Pavel Chekov reporting as you rekvested, nurse," he spoke up. "Ve have our rooms open and ready for ze patients."

Christine took the Aid-One kit from his outstretched arm and nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Mr. Chekov and everyone for your help." She motioned behind her. "Please follow me."

By now at least the worst was over and nearly all patients had gotten sedated or bandaged up. Christine noticed a spare PADD on the floor and picked it up. While the medical crew began moving patients out of the sick bay, she wrote down their names and the private quarters where they were going.

"Ben-Lachi…room A-342. Wurther...room F-983. X'noria…room R-314," she announced aloud.

"Pref'gu is going in my room, F-702," someone said over her shoulder.

"Pref'gu…F-702," she repeated aloud.

It was precise work but not overly taxing to Christine, who was careful to move only the lesser injured patients out of the sick bay and into other people's quarters. Those in intensive care had to be left in place for Dr. McCoy's inspection. Christine noticed that the officers, even those not assigned to medical services, were helping to move the gurneys to and fro. Ensign Chekov had to report back to the bridge in minutes but he had left the Aid-One kit, along with the others, for Christine's use.

The Enterprise crew exceeded all expectations.

McCoy stopped what he was doing long enough to wipe his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his arms were stained with blood. He had been so busy repairing the severed kneecap that he didn't realize the once-overflowing bay was only three-quarters full and a constant humdrum had replaced the chaos. He looked around the sick bay in astonishment.

"What's going on here?" he asked Christine.

"Other officers are sharing their quarters with patients, sir," she explained. She motioned to a table where the kits were stacked up. "And we should have more than enough self-adhesive bandages for now."

McCoy's jaw nearly hit the floor. "You did all this in under an hour?!"

"Everyone pitched in, doctor."

McCoy nodded and said, "Fine, nurse. Carry on." Once his back was turned to her, he raised his eyes upward and silently thanked the cosmos.

Once out of earshot, Christine's thumb pressed the button for the intercom. "Mr. Chekov," she spoke in a low voice. "Could you tell me if Captain Pike is on the bridge?"

He hesitated before speaking. "He haz been taken captured by ze Romulans, Nurz Chapel."

A fresh wave of fear slammed into her. "No," she whispered.

She couldn't bear the thought that he would just go out like a light, just like everyone else aboard those doomed starships. Behind the the curtain of diplomacy there was a bloodthirsty battle being raged between the Romulan Empire and the Federation. The Romulans were not known for being merciful towards their prisoners either.

"Yez. They stopped firing on ze Enterprise and ordered him to come to zer ship to discuss negotiations."

"And he agreed to go?!" Christine was alarmed.

"We had no choice," Chekov's voice came through the speaker. "Zey have activated a drill zat has been blocking our communications."

_That must've been what was sticking out of the Romulan vessel, _Christine wondered to herself.

"Acting keptin Spock is here now and Sulu and Kirk have dropped onto ze drill to deactivate it. Zat is buying us some time to contact Starfleet," Chekov explained.

"They've dropped onto the drill?" Christine couldn't believe her ears. "Do you mean to say that they're down there on that thing?" Jim Kirk must've been back to his nutty self to run headfirst into danger. But if Dr. McCoy was right about Kirk's instincts then he'd find some way to deactivate it. Hopefully Sulu would make it back alive as well.

She could hear a slight beeping noise coming from the bridge.

"Zee gravitational sensors are off the scale," Chekov's voice rose in concern. "The Romulan vessel just launched something zav vill consume the planet."

"An earthquake inside of Vulcan?" she asked.

"A black hole," Chekov concluded.

That was impossible. But before she could even ask Chekov about the black hole, he had to cut communications off and report back to Spock.

The next half hour was a fresh whirl of events that Christine struggled to keep straight in her head. While Captain Pike had gone unwillingly to the Romulan vessel, Kirk and Sulu had successfully managed to deactivate their device. She knew that was true when they both limped into the medical bay, battered and bruised but very much alive.

"What the hell have you two been doing?!" McCoy barked at them. Sulu and Kirk just exchanged glances, gasping for breath after a fierce rush of adrenaline and nearly plunging into Vulcan's surface.

"Cloud jumping?" Kirk suggested.

_Boys will be boys_, she thought while helping the limping Sulu onto a spare table. Fortunately his ankle wasn't in any real danger of being sprained. The moment she had secured a compression wrap around his foot, he had hopped off the table and insisted on reporting back to duty on the bridge. It was good to know they were this enthusiastic no matter what circumstances lay ahead.

But nobody could fathom just how far the captain of the Romulan vessel would go to wreck havoc on his adversaries.

There was a brief moment when Christine heard Uhura's voice over the intercom announcing that operations were back online. But then the Enterprise started to shiver slightly and when Christine saw everyone pointing out the window, their direction was focused on the brown sphere known as Vulcan that lay out in space. Something marred the flawless surface of the planet, something that looked like a cavity that was growing slowly from within the planet's surface. It looked like a pinprick from the Enterprise but everyone knew it was consuming continents by the second.

"My god! They're destroying it!" McCoy shouted.

It was impossible but it _was_ happening. The swirling void continued to suck up Vulcan like a vacuum while the Enterprise trembled. Then the last thing Christine saw before the ship zipped off into light speed was the dry desert planet collapse in onto itself leaving only a flicker of light within the void of space.

Christine couldn't believe it. She had just seen an entire world collapse upon itself within minutes. Millions of lives sucked away into nothing as the voices of history echoed forlorn disasters in Christine's mind. Black Plague. Pompeii. Titanic. Hiroshima. Chernobyl. Gen-thraw Island. World War III.

Dr. McCoy had been right. Space _was_ danger and disease wrapped in darkness and silence.

A-A-A

By now Christine knew how it felt to be on the losing side of a battle. The drill had been destroyed thanks to Jim Kirk and Sulu but Vulcan had been obliterated. Over one shoulder she heard someone comment that only 10,000 or so inhabitants were alive out of a race of 6 billion people.

The odds were staggering.

The sick bay had become a constant place of activity again. A few of the surviving Vulcans stood on one side, their faces masks of calmness that could only be holding back overwhelming grief and pain. At least the Enterprise had managed to transport them out just before going into warp drive.

And then she got the news: Spock's mother had not survived.

There was no time to think, only act. And act she did...yet still with that part of her that wanted to reach out and help, hoping somehow to ease the pain that when pill or bandage would do.

Jim had gotten a few gashes on his wrist but was nothing else for the worse. Christine knew he had every right to go back to his quarters and rest but instead he chose to stay in the sick bay and help. Once again that mischief prankish side of him had quickly been replaced with concern and consideration.

Spock, on the other hand, was unreadable. An icy mask had dropped over the acting caption's face when he went around the sick bay, requesting status updates and responding to comments from fellow officers.

Christine couldn't imagine how he could possibly command a ship under the circumstances. The burden on his shoulders was far too much to even fathom and he shouldn't be carrying it right now. She would have come to his side and said something, even a word of condolence, if she had the opportunity. But none came and so she could only hope that someone else would do it.

Now she was focused on a small Vulcan girl who sat on the table. Her long brown hair curled around shoulders and her pointed ears peeped out slightly like an Elvish princess. Her mouth was set firmly between dimpled cheeks and her deep-set eyes were solemn and quiet for one so young.

But when Christine tried to approach her with a small scanner, the girl seized her wrist in a tight grip and pushed it away. "It's okay, sweetie." Christine ran the scanner up and down her own arm. "See? It doesn't hurt." She tried to use the scanner again but the girl pushed her hand, lips sealed tightly in disdain.

"She is _an'kharh"_, a deep voice spoke from behind Christine. An elderly Vulcan woman with a wrinkled face and grave air had appeared beside her. Her almond-shaped eyes gazed out at the world pensively, not revealing any tormented thoughts to the human nurse who stood before her.

She came beside Christine and cast a sweeping glance at the child before coming to a conclusion.

"The child is traumatized," the Vulcan woman informed Christine. "She cannot control or even access her emotions after what she has witnessed."

"Can she communicate with us?" Christine asked.

"I think not," the woman said. "And she will not permit you to examine her either."

Christine was at a loss for options. She could handle basic human trauma but wasn't prepared for dealing with such a delicate situation. A sleeping tablet would only postpone the problem.

"I don't know what to do for her," Christine finally admitted. "But I must find a way to examine her injures or else I can't treat her."

The woman pulled back the sleeves to her purple robe revealing gnarled brown wrists. "I may be of assistance."

Christine watched in fascination as the woman reached out to the girl's face and quickly place her hand on her cheek, finger to temple and thumb to chin, before she could push her hand away.

"_Nahp hif-bi tu throks_," she murmured before her eyes snapped shut. The child's eyes closed as well. Neither of them moved or spoke yet Christine could feel as if the woman was binding an invisible thread between herself and the little girl, establishing a telepathic mode of contact.

After what seemed like hours but was only seconds, the woman released her hand from the child's face.

"_S'frei_?" she asked the little girl. Her cool green-gray eyes opened and gazed at the woman.

"_Ah_," the girl answered faintly. Obediently she stuck out her wrist for Christine to examine. The elderly woman nodded at Christine. Aside from the occasional cuts and bruises, the girl's body was not in any physical danger. But Christine knew the emotional scars could run deep within a person, no matter how young they were.

After cleaning the girl's wounds, Christine bent closer and whispered in a voice as gentle as she could muster. "Can you tell me your name?"

The child nodded gravely and answered in an equally soft voice, "I am Saavik."

"Saavik." Christine rolled the strange word around in her mouth. "That's pretty. My name's Christine."

"Chris-tine," Saavik punctuated carefully.

A shadow had fallen over them and Christine noticed it was Spock who was looking at them. She quickly rose to meet his gaze and when her eyes meet his, she felt a deep ache inside.

"Status, Nurse Chapel?"

"We're doing the best we can, sir. I'm almost done." She motioned to the Vulcan woman who had just helped the girl. "But I wish we had some more private space for the other Vulcans to rest."

"T'pau and the elders will have my private quarters," Spock insisted firmly. Why he could be so generous to others but single out resentment towards Jim Kirk was beyond Christine. But she held her tongue for now.

"Thank you, captain." And then she added, "May I have your permission to let Saavik rest in my room?"

"Permission granted. Carry on, Nurse."

Within minutes, Christine was leading Saavik by the hand to her little room. The child surveyed the interior carefully before seating herself on the bed. "Chri-stine," she repeated in the same monotone voice.

"Yes, Saavik. I'm here."

Only now did Christine remember the bundle that Janice had given her. Saavik watched Christine remove the drawstring pouch from under the pillow and open it up. Inside was her stuffed elephant and a bright red apple. Christine also found a scrap of paper with Janice's long loopy handwriting had scribbed GOOD LUCK. The dull ache pressing against her ribs continued.

Saavik was fingering one of Sumatra's fuzzy floppy gray ears thoughtfully. She didn't seem to know how to respond to the toy, to cuddle and hug it like a human child. Her attention was then distracted to the foreign fruit and she ran a finger over the shiny surface.

"Here." Christine cut off a piece of apple and offered it to the girl. Saavik just eyed it.

"Taste it. It's good." She took a bite and tried chewing it but the apple remained a hard lump in her throat. Christine forced it down and offered the second piece to Saavik.

Glancing at Christine, Saavik also took a small bite and managed to swallow it. No sooner had she finished eating her apple slice then her lower lip quivered slightly. Christine saw a shiny film cast over Saavik's eyes.

"I feel afraid," Saavik spoke at last.

Christine knelt beside Saavik and placed her arms on the small girl's slim shoulders. "I know, Saavik. So am I," she confessed. "But it's okay to be afraid. You're not alone. We're going to help you."

Saavik blinked as two tiny streams of tears trickled out of her eyes and ran down her soft cheeks. She felt the human woman's arms around her body and pull her closer, as if willing the pain inside of Saavik to stop and release itself. Saavik could only see the blue fabric of her dress and one of those small human pink curved ears peeping out of her pale hair.

She was still scared. But at least now Saavik felt safe.


	7. Chapter 7

McCoy knew that Christine had every right to take a break or least join the rest of the crew on the bridge. She had expressed an interest in knowing what exactly they had been up against and why they had lost so badly to one Romulan vessel. Maybe it wouldn't change the odds but it could shed some light on their very dark situation.

Unfortunately, it wasn't in his power to decide. Acting Captain Spock had requested McCoy—_only _McCoy- to come to the bridge and discuss options with the rest of the crew. With an apologetic look, McCoy left the sick bay, leaving the rest of the work to Christine.

Her frustrations were deep but she knew, quite useless. Christine clearly wasn't a tactical or communications office but heaven help her if she wanted to know what they were talking about on the bridge!

And at least the pin-pod had remained tucked securely into her headband all this time, though she had nearly forgotten about it in the sudden rush of work on the sick bay. She turned it back on and listened in while helping other medics clean up. Christine had gathered an armful of blood-stained bandages but almost dropped them when she heard Jim's voice buzzing in her ear.

"Since we have no idea what's motivating Nero and his crew, we have no way of predicting for certain where or how he'll strike next, other than a best-guess that he's headed for Earth," Jim concluded firmly.

"Out of the chair," came Spock's chastising voice.

_The enemy's name is Nero? Why'd he spare the Enterprise?_

Chekov had lifted the question from her thoughts and spoken it aloud. Sulu suggested that Nero had a bigger goal in mind that blasting another starship out of oblivion.

In his usual strategic manner Spock explained, "That's not it. He wanted me to see something: the destruction of my home world. If they are intending to head for Earth then their ambition on destroying this single starship is no longer high on their agenda."

Christine's hands were starting to shake. _If Nero is heading for Earth then it could share the same fate as Vulcan, _she thought fearfully.

McCoy brought up the next enormous question. "How the hell did they jump ahead so far in the arms race? And where'd they get a weapon like that?"

"Such technology could, in theory, be manipulated for a purpose other than destruction. It could hypothetically be manipulated to create a tunnel through space-time," Spock answered on beat. "Of course such conjecture is based on models that rely on current physical and mathematical knowledge."

_You lost me there_, Christine thought.

McCoy echoed her sentiments. "Damnit man, I'm a doctor not a physicist. Are you saying they're from the future?!"

"If you eliminate the impossible then whatever remains-however improbable-must be the truth," Spock concluded.

_That's impossible_, she insisted firmly. _That's time travel-_

Jim would say it would be wrong to deny it.

People used to scoff at theories that machines could fly in the air and computers could be made small enough to hold in the palm of one's hand. But the theories had held fast and brought amazing results. Science would always find a way to take the impossible and advance it to the possible, so long as there was time and dilgence to try theories over and over again until positive results came through.

If people of past centuries had learned to improve their methods of science then who was to say these Romulans hadn't passed through time as well? And if they _were_ from the future then it validated the reason as to why their technology was so sophisticated.

But that meant if the Enterprise crew had futures then they were all altered if the Romulans had gone back in time to cause so much chaos. Christine suspected she couldn't fathom the sheer amount of impact that would have on history or even the smaller details of what their lives would be like from now on. All she knew is that those monsters had destroyed a planet, wrecked their ship, taken Captain Pike hostage, and—according to Spock—were heading towards Earth.

"What would an angry Romulan from the future want with Captain Pike?" Jim asked.

Sulu had a suggestion. "He knows much as any admiral about Starfleet defenses. If they _are_ heading towards Earth then they'd need to extract information from him."

He had a good point, and one that gave Christine hope. It meant their adversaries, despite their fancy equipment, were still not unbeatable. And if the Enterprise crew could get Captain Pike back before he gave away any Starfleet secrets then the Romulans wouldn't be able to attack Earth or-

"We've got to get him back," Kirk insisted.

Christine waited for another strategy plan to start formulating. But much to her shock and dismay, Spock turned his fellow officer down. "He left us with orders that if he fails to return, we must rendezvous with the rest of the fleet. As you may have noticed, we are technologically outmatched and a rescue attempt would be illogical."

_Yes, but we can't just leave him out there!_

Kirk's tone echoed her sentiments. "What about loyalty to one's commanding officer?" he shot at Spock. "And you wanna be logical? Then do what Nero doesn't expect you to do and be Unpredictable. It's the last thing he'll expect from you."

"You're assuming Nero knows how events are predicting to unfold and by acting in an illogical manner we could somehow disrupt his intentions. It is clear that his purpose in making the time traverse is to change the past. Since entering this time plane his actions have been hostile toward the Federation and we may assume he shall continue to do so."

Spock went on. "Through his actions he has altered the course of history, beginning with the attack on the Kelvin 25 years ago and culminating in the events of today, therefore creating a new chain of events that cannot be anticipated by either party."

_But what does __**that**__ mean? Are you referring to a "wrinkle in time"?_

"An alternate reality," Uhura murmured aloud.

"Precisely," Spoke said. "Our destinies, whatever they were, have changed."

All the talk of altering history was making Christine's head spin. All she knew is that she wanted Captain Pike back safe on the Enterprise and for them to all get home safely. There had been enough bloodshed for one voyage.

Spock had instructed Sulu to plot a course to the nearest Starfleet system when Kirk interrupted. "Commander, I disagree—"

"_Captain_," Spock corrected him (a little too-harshly in Christine's opinion). "Your opinion is duly noted, Mr. Kirk. But my order stands."

The sound of Jim's rising voicewas making Christine anxious. They shouldn't be quarreling with one another at a time like this. She had seen what the Romulans had done to their ship—who knew what they'd do to Pike?

"We don't have time for debating this! Every minute we spend getting close there, Nero's getting closer to his next target!" Kirk's voice rose up in a feverish pitch.

"I am instructing you to accept that I am responsible for making the decisions that govern the actions vessel," Spock said. His voice bordered on a cautioning message that if he was pushed too far then he might resort to unpleasant actions. "As of now you are relieved of your duties, Mr. Kirk. Security, escort him out."

Christine heard footsteps followed by a murmur of voices. And suddenly, there were grunts and punches being heard from the bridge. It sounded as if someone, or least some people, were trying to wrestle Jim into obedience and he was defying authority.

There was a scuffling sound, followed by a grunt of frustration. Jim's voice moaned in defeat before fading out. Christine's mouth became dry when she dreaded the worst for him.

Then Spock replied five words in a voice so cold and rigid that it chilled Christine down to her bones:

"_Get him off this ship_."

A-A-A

Mama's got the heat sensor on. Her skin is warm and soft and smells like cinnamon. I curl up on the sofa next to her and rub my nose against the fabric of her shirt. Mama starts humming that song we both know while her knitting needles click together.

I watch the needles flick back and forth as the wool winds around her fingers. She could easily buy clothes but she still likes the old-fashioned way of doing things with her hands.

Back and forth, back and forth, the needles click against each other like the ticking of the clock as I watch another row slowly added to the purple scarf she's knitting.

The wooden chimes whistle over the doorway when it opens up and someone walks in. I know by the voice that its Daddy and I go running to him. He grabs me in a hug and lifts me clear off my feet, into his arms. He smells like the old leather of his shuttle-craft. His beard scratches against my skin when I kiss him on the cheek but I don't care. That's my daddy.

I start telling him about the flowers that Mommy and I picked in the greenhouse and point proudly to a bouquet in a jug. He says how pretty they are and how nice it was to put them together.

Together we go into the next room for supper.

_A-A-A_

Mama and Daddy are coughing a lot. So am I.

If I move then my bones hurt. If I cough then my head hurts. The sheets feel hot against my sticky skin and the air I breath feels thick. I call to Mama but she doesn't come into my room. I ask for medicine but she says it won't help me. Daddy finally opens the door and I hear him wheeze like he's got mud in his throat.

"Chrissi, come here." He gathers me up in his arms and wraps me in thick wool blankets. I'm being carried down the hallway past Mommy and Daddy's room and taken outside. I start shivering 'cuz it's so cold against the wind but the air is clean and makes my head tingle from the chill. I bury myself inside the blankets to stay warm.

Daddy brings me to a man in a big brown coat coat who's sipping from a cup of something warm. He doesn't have a beard like Daddy but he has a deep voice.

"'Bout time, Dr. Chapel. We'd better get moving before nightfall," he says. He dumps the rest of his brown drink onto the snow and says something into Daddy's ear. I look at the man and then my father, not understand what's going on.

"This man is going to take you to the hospital," he explains. Daddy sets me down in the pod compartment of the man's speed-bike. I should be excited 'cuz I've always wanted to go on a speed-bike before. But I'm too tired to care.

"Aren't you and Mommy coming?" I ask.

"Soon, Chrissi. Soon," he assures me. "Will you be a good girl and wait for us?"

I nod to him while my teeth chatter noisily inside my mouth. Daddy leans over and kisses me on the forehead and I try to kiss him back, but I'm coughing so much. I feel his warm palm on my cheek. "I love you, sweetheart," Daddy murmurs. "My good girl, my dear Christine." He stands up and says something else to the man who is fitting a red helmet over my head. It muffles out whatever they're saying while warming my head and ears.

Before I know it the speed-bike has gone off and Daddy vanishes into the whitness of the snow. All I can hear is the motor humming and the wind breezing softly through my ears.

I don't know much but Daddy said I'll see him and Mama again. So I'm going to wait just like he said. The man driving the speed-bike asks me if I'm warm enough and I nod. I snuggle back into the blankets feeling like a little squirrel resting in her nest. The man says the hospital will take care of me and I'm going to be fine. The speed-bike jiggles one way and another, kind of like a rocking horse.

The snow becomes darker and the stars come out just before I fall asleep.

A-A-A

An unpleasant silence had settled over the Enterprise.

Christine sat in a corner of her room watching Saavik sleep. The child was breathing softly and had apparently forgone the fears that disrupted her waking moments; her face was composed and soothing. But Christine continued to twist her hands together and bite her lips fretfully. The last thing she had seen from the window was a tiny pod ejected from the Enterprise that went spiraling through space down towards a cold dismal planet that lay forgotten among the stars. That was the last she had seen of James Tiberius Kirk.

How could Spock allow it to happen?

Was this all about a petty test back at Starfleet Academy? Or was it some personal vendetta that Spock had against Kirk from years before? Christine didn't know and she didn't care. The acting captain had just dropped Jim Kirk off the ship like flecking an unwanted fly out of a house.

She couldn't help but feel anger, frustration, and empathy for Spock all at once. He had insisted that he wasn't emotionally compromised but no one, no matter how logical they could be, could function properly after watching an entire planet get nuked in the blink of an eye. She suspected Spock had taken some of his aggravation out on Jim.

Wearily, Christine rose to her feet and returned to the sick bay. She began going from patient to patient to make certain they were stable and their vital signs were constant. But her voice was monotone and there were no tender words of affection or hand squeezes to assure them satisfactory recoveries. The most she could muster was a brief nod before moving on to the next patient. The other medics exchanged concerned looks, surprised at the sudden change in her bedside manner.

Christine was refolding towels when Spock entered the sick bay. "Where's Dr. McCoy?" he demanded.

"He's rechecking our signals sir," she responded feebly.

Spock's gaze did not move from Christine and she secretly hoped he wasn't aware that she had been "spying" on the bridge. "Your voice does not suggest approval at my actions," he said at last.

"You are the captain. You do what you must," Christine said reluctantly. Then she added, "Even if someone despises you for it."

Spock did not exactly frown. But he was close to showing disapproval. Noticing that he had not yet stepped away, she decided to give him one last chance.

"Please," she begged, taking a step closer to Spock. "Won't you reconsider your sentence on Jim Kirk? I know from experience that he's a troublemaker but he's not selfish or dangerous."

"He is a threat to everyone on board this ship," came the crisp reply.

"A threat to everyone or to your own pride?" Christine insisted. She continued to address the acting captain.

"You were entrusted to command this ship and what good would it do to take another Starfleet officer off duty? Jim Kirk risked his life to disable the drill. We'd all be dead if he and Sulu hadn't intervened."

"I acknowledge Mr. Kirk's success in his mission but we must compensate our losses," Spock answered her a little too quickly. "And you must keep your unstable senses in check, Nurse Chapel. Weakened moral is an illogical waste of precious time and is a common fallacy among officers. "

The comment hit Christine squarely in the chest. His logic and unwavering sense of right could cut through her sudden outbursts of emotio. Within seconds she could feel the hot tears start to sting in the back of her eyes but she blinked them back quickly.

The rest of the medical staff had stopped what they were doing long enough to observe. The sight of the tall nurse almost standing eye to eye with the dark-haired imposing Vulcan was impressive, if not daring.

"Mr. Spock," Christine said.

"_Captain_," he corrected her.

"Captain," she repeated as she prepared to address him again. "I am aware of the imperfections of the human race. You said I was weak and emotional and you may be right. But I don't regret my moral decisions for a moment. It's a better alternative than caring about nothing at all."

Her words hung heavily in the air. Christine had probably gone too far off the deep end but it felt right to say it.

Spock eyed her with disdain. Any disregard he had for Jim Kirk was now focused on Christine Chapel, who continued to look him in the face.

"Are we suddenly discussing ethics, Nurse Chapel?" Spock demanded. "Because your debate is a flawed one that I would correct immediately if our schedule was not so constricted. I order you to cease this futile action and return to your duties."

She expected him to say more but he did not. Spock turned around to exit the sick bay but was caught off guard when Christine suddenly reached out and yanked as hard as she could on his sleeve. Protocal be dammed, she would speak her mind this time!

"You must get Jim Kirk back or he'll die out there!" she shouted. "Haven't we lost enough lives already? How can you have mutiny on your conscience?"

For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of light in his eye, his features soften slightly...the pause suggesting the impact of her words. But it vanished quickly and was replaced with an emotionless facade.

"Do not threaten me, Nurse Chapel. You're not in a position to tell me what to do."

"I know. But I can make you _think_ about what you're doing. If Jim Kirk is found dead then the responsibility will be on your head," she warned him. "He saved my life once and I owe everything to him. Who will watch your back if you reject everyone who disagrees with you? You'll still be a commander but you'll be all alone."

Spock took two long steps towards Christine so quickly that she was backed up against the wall.

"You speak as someone with experience, Nurse Chapel," he answered in a steely tone. "Especially with a lack of stability in your life, no wonder you are emotionally compromised."

Christine was too stunned to speak. But her body was suddenly brimming with white-hot fury and she reacted instinctively. Without thinking twice, her hand whipped through the air and she slapped Spock as hard as she could across his face.

_**WHACK**_!

Her palm made a sharp cracking sound when it hit his cheek. The other nurses and a few recovering patients watched with frozen shock. Christine's hand vibrated from the blow when she pulled her arm back. Her lips trembled in horror when she realized the brutality of her action.

Spock did not even touch his face to feel for pain. He blinked twice as if to clarify his visual perception was still in working order. But still no reply, no empathy. She almost wish he would've hit her back. Instead, Spock's frosty voice continued.

"The penalty for striking a superior officer is a severe one, Nurse Chapel. If we were not so short on hands then I would send you to confinement. In the meantime you will remain at your post until we meet up with Starfleet and then you will be dismissed from the Enterprise."

"Yes captain," she answered weakly. Christine could feel her voice already breaking in defeat.

"Have Dr. McCoy come to the bridge when you see him," Spock added before exiting the sickbay.

She was beyond capable of handling anything else right now. Christine collapsed onto a bench and buried her face in her hands. Tears streamed down her face in defeat and shame and she let them flow down her cheeks, let all of the shock and grief course through her veins.

Had she really lost her senses? What kind of professional nurse lashes out at her captain and then hits him across the face? Maybe she _was_ emotionally compromised as Spock has said. But no, she had to be empathetic to help other people. Her sentiments were her strengths, not her weaknesses.

What would Dr. McCoy say if he knew what she had done? Maybe Spock was right-maybe they all flawed in their significant ways. But no, she couldn't accept that. If they continued to fight and bicker among themselves it would only give that psychopath called Nero another victory.

_If only Captain Pike and Jim Kirk were here, _her thoughts congealed as she chocked out a faint sob of despair.

Christine's eyes were swollen from crying but at least the frustration was gone, leaving her shaken and reflective. She continued to weep silently in her own corner until she heard footsteps and saw someone had approached her.

It was one of the Vulcans, but not T'Pau. He was elderly, his hair gray with time and his face deepened with crinkles and creases that hinted at great experience and a dignified countenance. And yet there was something serene and sad in his face—a duality of wisdom and loss that could not be expressed in words. He looked like the sort of parental figure she would gladly have confided in on a less morbid occasion.

He had probably just seen her strike the captain too. At least he deserved an apology after her offensive action against one of his own kin.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," she apologized.

"I believe you did." His voice was calm but not accusatory at her. He took a seat on the bench facing Christine. "I have noticed that the release of emotions is healthy to humans just as the control of them is healthy to Vulcans."

"Healthy." Christine hadn't even considered that. No doubt Vulcans had to keep themselves in check for certain reasons but she still couldn't draw a connection between this newcomer and the acting captain. She still felt compelled to express herself.

"I don't think or feel-" she lingered for a moment before choosing the right words to say. "I don't believe Spock is acting like a proper Starfleet captain or using his natural behavior."

"No," the elderly Vulcan male said with a slight shake of his head. "It is not in his nature. Pride has prevented him from accessing his emotions and understanding them."

A new thought dawned on Christine. "Is he an..._an'kharh?_" she attempted to wrap her tongue around the alien word.

The Vulcan nodded to acknowledge her theory as correct. "Spock will not come to terms with his limits. The elders and I do not approach him now because his personal grief is too close to the surface. He must come into self-reflection and only then can he properly carry out his responsibilities."

"You seem to know a lot of about Spock," she realized aloud.

"My name is Sarek," he informed her. "I am his father."

Christine blanched and her mouth hung open. She had attacked his son and had no words to respond to Sarek.

Not knowing what else to say or do, she rose from her seat and busied herself with the hot water urn. It was better this way keeping her hands preoccupied and away from Sarek's face. Nevertheless she couldn't resist a quick glance over her shoulder. He didn't look mad at her but who knew what he was thinking in his mind?

_He just lost a wife_, she reminded herself. _I wonder what sort of a woman Amanda Grayson was to move to another planet and marry an alien. _

She let the cups brew until they were full of steaming water and mixed in the herbs to prepare the tea. Christine retook her seat and offered one to Sarek. To her relief and surprise he accepted the cup from her.

Nothing more could be said or done. Christine sat there cupping the mug and letting the steam stream into her face, waiting for it to cool. She'd drink it and go back to duties, then deport herself off the Enterprise once they got back to Earth.

The doors reopened and McCoy came back from the bridge. He strode over to the urn and began making himself a cup of tea. "Green blooded hobgoblin," he grumbled not-so-quietly while stirring his spoon vigorously. McCoy eyed the tea in disdain. "What I really need is a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and a bucket of ice."

Christine rose cautiously. "What happened?" she asked him.

"What happened? I'll tell you what happened," McCoy growled to face her. "Our acting captain tried to point out to me how Jim and I were close and he admitted it wasn't easy turning my back on a friend. So I gave him a good piece of my mind. I told him by ditching Jim on a frozen rock, he sentenced him to death and made us lose a valuable asset.

"Hell, you know Jim's crazy but he'll find a way to come out on top no matter what. _He just can't lose._ It's in his DNA. We need that kind of skill to face of the Romulans. So I said to Spock, 'if you wanna ride in the Kentucky Derby, you don't leave your prize stallion in the stable.' And you know what that pointy eared bastard told me?"

Christine waited for a response while Dr. McCoy tipped his head back and drained the cup dry. After gulping down his tea he resumed ranting away.

"Spock told me, 'A curious metaphor doctor, as a stallion must be broken before reaching its potential.' He didn't even act like it was a hard decision and said if he wanted to roam the halls weeping, he'd know where to find us." McCoy shook his head in disbelief. "He's not a Vulcan. He's a freakin' computer."

All this time, Sarek remained passive and said nothing. McCoy set his cup aside and pinching the bridge of his nose, he motioned for Christine to come within earshot.

Making sure no one else could hear them he muttered in a low voice, "Did you really hit him, Nurse Chapel?"

"Yes sir," she admitted wearily.

He grunted and started massaging his temples with his fingertips. "If we go by the book then I shouldn't be promoting that kind of behavior aboard a starship."

Christine looked away, too ashamed to face Dr. McCoy.

"But if I was in your shoes I would've jammed a laser scalpel up a certain part of his anatomy," the doctor added.

Before she could even respond, the alarms were going off. Christine's mind reverted to the worst case scenario: the Romulans had decided to go after the Enterprise again and were back to finish them off.

"It's a security breach," McCoy remarked aloud. "Who the hell is going through the engine room?"

He rushed to a side screen and tapped in a few coordinates while Christine looked over his shoulder. No, it couldn't be, her eyes must be deceiving her! That was—

"JIM!" McCoy exploded. "How the hell did he get back on board!?"

Lo and behold, the screen displayed someone standing among the heavy machinery in the bowels of the Enterprise engine room. The man in the heavy parka was no doubt Jim Kirk. Christine had never been so relieved to see him again. He was assisting someone else in a knit cap to his feet and trying to stay one step ahead of the red-shirted guards that were chasing them.

"Of all the goddam crazy tricks," McCoy sputtered. "Where'd he find a transporter on Delta Vega? And who's with him?" He whirled to face Christine, eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets. "Nurse Chapel, stay here."

"Doctor, just this once—" she protested. She _had _to know what was going on. But McCoy was already racing back towards the bridge.

"Man the helm!" McCoy hollered as he ran for the umpteenth time out of the sick bay. Christine stamped her foot in frustration. Was she never going to get all of the facts straight?

Just as she was about to reach for the pin-pod Sarek, who had been quiet and reflecting all this time, came over to her. "I believe if you adjust the sensors on these computers you may receive full audio and visual," he suggested.

One long gnarled finger ran across the touch-sensitive screen. Christine watched the images flash for a few seconds until it finally became still. Within seconds she had a full clear view of the bridge and everyone in it.

Sarek glanced at Christine. "You will forgive me but I must also return to the bridge. It is uncertain how Spock will react to this unlikely surprise."

She nodded knowingly. No sooner had he left the sick bay then Christine adjusted the volume on the screen to see better. Over her shoulder, a few medics were also watching the same scenario.

Jim Kirk had been marched into the bridge along with the newcomer who was, oddly enough, soaked to the skin. He looked slightly bewildered and yet impressed with the Enterprise. Spock began to demand answers from Kirk: who was the newcomer and how had they managed to beam aboard the Enterprise at warp speed.

"I'm not telling," he answered. For once, Spock was lost for words.

"What, that doesn't frustrate you, does it?" Jim asked smugly.

Christine recognized that tone of voice. Did Jim want to get his lights punched out again?

Apparently so because Spock continued to be brief and to the point. "You _will_ answer me," he cautioned in an ominous tone.

Jim continued to taunt him. "What's with you, Spock? Your planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered, and you're not even upset. Did you see what that bastard did with his ship?"

The Vulcan replied swiftly, "Of course I did."

"So are you afraid or aren't you?"

"I will not allow you to lecture me on the merits of emotion."

"And you were the one who said fear was necessary," Kirk shot back in triumph.

_He's trying to get Spock angry. _Christine drew in a sharp breath.

"What's it like not to feel anything like anger or heartbreak," Jim went on. "Or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?"

"Back away from me, Mr. Kirk." Spock's voice was barely audible.

"You don't feel anything!" Jim yelled, nearly spitting in Spock's face. "It must not even compute you! You **_never _**loved her!"

Christine saw a flash of white teeth on the screen as Spock charged Kirk with unbridled fury. He let out a roar of frustration as he slammed fists and blows into Kirk's body. Nobody could stop him as Spock rammed Kirk into one piece of equipment and then threw him into another. Kirk tried briefly to protect himself by holding his arms over himself as a shield but Spock's fist came down on him hard, nearly crunching his jawbone in.

"STOP IT!" she heard herself scream aloud. Christine beat her fists against the screen. It was a futile effort; no one there could hear her but she couldn't stand watching it anymore.

The Vulcan had flipped Kirk over onto his back and had a hand at his throat, attempting to strangle him. Kirk's face was turning blue and he was chocking, barely able to fight off the grip that could easily cut off his windpipe for good. The sudden turn of events, watching their acting captain transform into a monster, seemed to have paralyzed everyone else on the bridge.

"Spock!"

The voice of Sarek, firm and commanding, must have broken through. Because Spock's face distorted as he slowly came back to himself, realizing what he had just done. He released his grip on Jim who started wheezing in relief. Spock looked around the bridge to see everyone's horrified faces.

Slowly he made his way over to Dr. McCoy. "Doctor, I relinquish my command on the grounds that I have been emotionally compromised," he said feebly. "Please note the time and date in the ship's log."

_Emotionally compromised, _she thought. _Of course. Regulation 6-19 of Starfleet means he has to resign. but Kirk was just getting him riled up._

"I like this ship!" the newcomer suddenly spoke up in a broad accent. "It's excitin'!"

Nobody else shared his opinion.

"Well that's just great," McCoy remarked sarcastically. "No we've got no captain and no goddam first officer to replace him."

Jim didn't miss a beat. "Yeah we do," he said before walking over to the captain's chair and sitting down in it.

Christine had seen a lot that night but this was nothing short of impossible. Although she had to admit that looking at Kirk sitting poised and ready to command somehow felt right. He looked determined and ready to take affirmative action for the entire ship.

"What?!" McCoy was flabbergasted.

"Pike made him first officer," Sulu explained. She must've missed that slight but very important detail.

Uhura, however, remained skeptical. "I sure hope you know what you're doing," she cautioned Kirk.

"Me too," he answered. Kirk pressed a button on the side of the captain's chair and spoke aloud. His voice filled the entire ship, including the sick bay, with a clear firm command.

"_Attention crew of the Enterprise. This is James Kirk. Captain Spock has resigned his commission and advanced me to acting captain. I know you were all expecting to regroup with the rest of the fleet but I'm ordering a pursuit on the enemy ship we believe is headed for Earth. All departments report to battle stations in ten minutes._

"_Either we're going down or they are. Kirk out."_

A-A-A

There was nothing more they could do but wait. While the medical officers chattered among themselves questioning the authenticity of Kirk's promotion and wondering how many more injured patients they'd expect, one of them noted to Christine on the newcomer. She recognized his name as one that Ben had mentioned, a Montgomery Scott who had transferred from Edinburgh to study Starfleet engineering.

Mr. Scott must've gotten on the wrong side of Admiral Archer because he had been shipped off to Delta Vega for detention months ago after an error in calculations. At least Christine had gotten a trial but that sounded like an unacceptable excuse for punishment, exiling Mr. Scott all because of a silly dog!

_If we survive this trip I'm going to put in a request for adjusting punishment rules_, Christine resolved to herself. _Along with longer uniform skirts._

As if the voyage couldn't get any more dotty, McCoy came back to the sick bay half an hour later looking slightly perplexed but not half as angry as she expected. The other medical officers surrounded him asking for answers but he ordered them to "shut up" so he could get the facts straight.

"Well, the good news is that our new acting captain is going in on a suicide mission to get Captain Pike back. That's also the bad news," he added.

"WHAT!?" everyone blurted at once.

"How's that good news at all?" someone shot up.

"It means it'll give us a fighting chance against the Romulans if they're distracted with Kirk and Spock aboard," McCoy explained.

"Kirk and Spock?" Christine was surprised. "What happened during the last half hour, doctor?"

"Well, I dunno exactly but whatever it was, it worked." McCoy folded his arms over his chest. "We were all talkin' about ways to catch up with that Romulan bastard and the Russian whiz kid thinks we're gonna stay out of sight if we drop out of warp near Saturn. Now I can't trust the fate of the universe with a kid who's not even old enough to shave but it wasn't as if we had any other options."

"And then suddenly, out of the blue, Mr. Pointy Ears shows up as if he hasn't just tried snapping Jim's neck off. He just said Whiz Kid was right and he'd go along with the mission to get Pike back. I don't know who or what did it but somehow Spock got his head out of his ass and started _thinking_ instead of arguing."

"You're joking," Christine said. Had someone actually managed to sort things out for Spock? Or had he reached a point of clear thinking all on his own?

"Yup," McCoy nodded. "So instead of going up against Nero with guns a' blazin' this ship is gonna play 'hide and seek'. There's no way they're going to find us inside of Titan which is exactly why we're going there while Jim and Spock get aboard their vessel. We're likely to get shaken up inside a magnetic field so I want all available hands to strap patients into their beds."

McCoy clapped his hands. "I don't want anyone flying around this ship who shouldn't be. Now let's get to work!"

Everyone else had taken off like McCoy said but Christine approached him with several questions still unexplained. "Dr. McCoy, isn't that a tremendous risk? If only Jim and Spock get aboard that Romulan ship without backup..."

"Think about it, Nurse Chapel. This Nero's got an ego bigger than the universe and can only think about blasting ships and planets apart. Two guys sneaking on board? Completely undetected and under the radar."

"Well, if you say so," she murmured. Jim was thinking outside the box and if Spock could lend some of his scientific intellect to the plan, it didn't sound as futile a mission as she thought it would be.

No sooner had McCoy spoken then the panel doors parted and Jim and Spock strode in. Christine noticed that McCoy was right about Spock. The Vulcan appeared calm and restored to his usual condition. There wasn't a trace of dislike in his voice when he said to Jim, "We have to carry a minimum amount of supplies, captain. There's no time to waste."

"I agree. Basic Aid-One and lung protection," Jim nodded in agreement. "We don't know what foul air those Romulans are breathing but we sure as hell don't want to be poisoned."

Only an hour ago, Spock wouldn't address his former adversary as "captain". Now they seemed to be syncronized in the mission.

"It's nice to see you two in the same room without tearing each other's heads off," McCoy remarked in his usual gruff tone. He turned to Christine. "Do we have any oxygen tablets left?"

"I'll look," she assured him. While Christine opened up the medication compartments, she realized Spock was looking at her carefully. The relapse of her recent attack on him was fresh in her mind and she was uncertain how he'd react.

"Captain, before we reach the transporter room there is something you must know," Spock spoke up.

Jim was already strapping an emergency kit to his utility belt. "What is it?"

"In my former position as acting captain I accused Nurse Chapel of violating a code of conduct," Spock confessed. "And being emotionally compromised at the time, I did not have the proper authority to dismiss her from the service."

Kirk glanced at Christine. "McCoy told me that you got quite physical with the first officer. Is that right?"

Seeing Christine's bright red face confirmed Kirk's question. He smiled and nodded. "Good for you. We all need a kickstart now and then."

He then turned to Spock. "Since you admit to being emotionally compromised then your attempt to dismiss Nurse Chapel is invalid."

"Nevertheless, as you are the acting captain now, I suggest you ratify the accusation," Spock commented.

"Will you two shut the hell up and get moving? You've got a ship to catch!" McCoy barked. "Or are you gonna stand there jabbering all day while Nero plans his next Armageddon?"

"All right, Bones." Kirk turned to face Christine who had just handed him the oxygen tablets necessary for emergency breathing. He picked them up and slipped them into his utility belt.

"Nurse Chapel, the charges against you have been dropped and you are completely at liberty to do whatever Bones tells you to do or what you think is necessary in the line of duty. Is that adequate for you?"

"Yes sir!" she beamed with delight.

"There now, Mr. Spock. Are you satisfied?"

"Indeed, captain. I do not think it would be logical to deprive Dr. McCoy of one of his most dedicated medical officers right now." Spock's steady gaze assured her that her error had been forgiven.

"Finally, we agree on something!" McCoy muttered. "Now will you two get going?!"

"On our way, Bones." Kirk actually waved over his shoulder as he and Spock quickly strode out of the sick bay.

McCoy collapsed onto a bench and ran his palms across his face, trying to compose himself after their insane adventure running in and out of the inferno of space.

Christine just gazed out of the window and continued to watch the stars. So, Jim Kirk and Mr. Spock would be beaming aboard that enormous Romulan vessel in one last mission to stop Nero once and for all. She knew she should have faith in them, and so she did. _I believe you two can do this together if you just work alongside_, she thought.

"Nurse Chapel?" McCoy spoke up from behind her.

"Yes, doctor?"

"If we get out of this alive then I'm buying you a drink."

A smile graced Christine's lips. "Thank you, Doctor."


	8. Chapter 8

Jonathan Ben-Lachi 's brain felt as if it was stuffed with cotton.

His eyes fluttered lazily before he could gather his wits together. Eyes flickering around the room he realized that he was not in the sick bay but in fact, in a fellow officer's quarters. He recalled the searing pain in his shoulder when a metal plate had punctured his skin. Then he saw the kind face of that nurse who was bent over him, whispering a reassurance as she patched him up before pumping him full of sedatives.

No wonder he felt so woozy. At least his shoulder had stopped bleeding him to death.

The door opened up and in walked someone who was _definitely_ not a Starfleet officer and wore an oversized blue uniform shirt that nearly came down to her knees. The girl, he was guessing about 11 or 12 years old, was balancing a tray in her slim hands and carrying it to Jonathan.

"What's a kid like you," he mumbled thickly. "Doin' in a place like this?"

"I have come to assist you," the little officer informed him. She set the tray down next to his bedside table.

"All patients to be strapped in," she said in a no-nonsense voice. "We will be entering Titan's magnetic field and the Enterprise may get shaky. Please stay in bed."

"Now wait a minute," Jonathan began to protest. "I wanna see a real doctor, not some baby elf!"

He struggled to get up but Saavik's palm pushed him back hard enough to make Jonathan's head bounce against the pillow.

"I am not a baby elf," she replied as-a-matter of fact. "And these are Dr. McCoy's orders." When Jonathan began to panic and raise his voice in a protest, Saavik followed Nurse Chapel's instructions. She removed the gray cylinder from her pocket and swiftly jabbed its pointed end into Jonathan's knee.

"Aw, hell noooo..."

His protest died out when his eyelids closed and he slumped back into unconsciousness. It was unclear if Saavik was satisfied with her work but had anyone seen the brief nod she gave herself and perhaps the corner of her lip pull up as she pocketed the tranquilizer, they would have said she was content.

Saavik returned to the sick bay just as Christine was securing a bandage around Montgomery Scott's elbow. By now she had become quite accustomed to patching up wounded officers and was able to secure his injury within seconds. "It's just a wee scratch," he insisted. "From adjusting the turbo engines."

"Dr. McCoy would say you almost severed an artery trying to fix the machinery," she warned him.

Christine tied off the bandage and rolled down his sleeve. "You should be able to get back to work for now. But no combat training," she added, feeling more like her old self again.

Scottie had only been on the Enterprise for four hours but he was already grateful that the heavens had sent Jim Kirk to rescue him from Delta Vega and bring him aboard this magnificent starship. Aside from the energetic Kirk and enthusiastic crew that had welcomed him to their engineering department, he was equally grateful to the nurse who had taken his hunger pains to heart.

"It's not haggis and 'taters," Christine cautioned as she placed a meal tray on the table next to Scottie. "But it's the best we can do under the conditions."

Scottie just tore into the bread-pocket with gusto and washed it down with a mouthful of re-hydrated soup.

Saavik nearly skipped over to Christine with enthusiasm and tugged on her sleeve. "I spoke to Nurse Jiko. She says all of the patients are secured and ready."

"Thank you, Saavik."

"Is there anything else you require?"

Christine looked at the little brown-haired girl affectionately. Saavik had taken a liking to the head nurse and eagerly offered her assistance, even saying she would be Christine's "apprentice" if necessary. Christine was moved by her loyalty but informed Saavik that at the moment she needed an assistant more than an apprentice. Nevertheless, Saavik followed her orders around the sick bay and diligently carried out any minor details that Christine noticed needed attending to.

"Looks like there's not much else to do but wait for them to come back," Christine admitted.

She had gotten everything in place so quickly that McCoy told her to take a few minutes to catch her breath while he waited by the transporter room, ready in case of any emergencies that came up. In the meantime she had re-heated coffee for everyone. The caffeine would give them the jump start they needed for one final attack on the Romulans.

Scottie picked up his mug and raised it in a toast. "To the Enterprise, may she endure and grant us a winning victory!"

"To the Enterprise," Christine agreed. _And to my friends, _she added to herself.

She watched Scottie take a big swallow of coffee. "Ah," he exhaled happily. "Now I propose another toast to the bonny girls aboard the ship!"

"What does 'bonnie' mean?" asked Savvik.

"It means 'lovely', ye wee lass," Scottie winked. "And someday you may grow up to be as fair and fine as this blue-eyed lass if ye keep workin' aboard a starship."

Christine stole a glance at the monitor screens. "We're closing into Titan. Saavik, can you tell Dr. McCoy that we're all in position?" The sprite-child took the command to heart and nimbly leaped down from the bench to skip off in search of the doctor.

Once Saavik was out of the sick bay Christine took a seat on the bench next to Scottie. "I have to let you know that one of my friends in Starfleet had mentioned your name before. His name was Ben Harrero."

"Harrero? Good ol' Benjy boy!" Scottie acknowledged her message. "Good chap, a fine friend of mine. He was always tellin' me we'd get a holiday off together and go down to see his palm trees."

Christine's face fell slightly when she told Scottie about the Independent's ill-fated end.

"Blown to bits, eh?" Scotty crooked a finger for Christine to listen closer. "I'll tell ye what, lassie. The first round of ammo we fire at them Romulans, we do it for Benjamin John Harrero."

"For Ben," Christine agreed.

A-A-A

_Two hours later:_

Acting captain's log stardate thirty three oh four two seven—

Oh hell, this isn't even going in the log. I just had to get it down before we disembark the Enterprise otherwise I'm going to forget. Let's just say fate's got a weird way of running the show around here and if I had a credit for every time Bones hollered "Damnit Jim" in my face...but that's another story.

You'd think after we stole back Captain Pike and Nero's "black-hole" device, Spock and I would be safe to transport back onto the Enterprise and return home in victory. I don't think either of us expected to be nearly sucked into that black hole and we would have if Scottie hadn't thought to eject the pod core. Now the ship's taken quite a beating and there's cracks in the panels but for some miraculous reason she's still functioning. If I'm found accused guilty for life then I'll gladly put my years into community service restoring the Enterprise. She's such a beautiful lady and quite vigorously active in space, I may add, from personal experience.

God, I love this ship.

Where was I? Oh yeah, getting away. As soon as the Enterprise was out of danger we began our journey home although I told Sulu to plot an easy course so we wouldn't strain ourselves.

Then suddenly I got a message from Bones to come down to the sick bay along with Spock. I hadn't seen him since we dropped Captain Pike off to be examined so I hoped Bones had some good news about our mentor and leader.

It was bad news.

Bones had Captain Pike under the deepest sedation possible and was elbow deep in surgery. I wasn't surprised that the only other medical officer with him was Nurse Chapel; Bones wouldn't trust anyone else with something so complicated. Saavik, our youngest volunteer aboard the Enterprise, stood poised and ready for a command.

"It's not looking good Jim," he told me. Bones had gotten a zoom-in on Pike's spine using the sonar computer and was pointing to a small but nasty-looking black thing buried in his body. I don't know as much as him about biology, I'll admit that, but whatever was attacking our captain looked repulsive.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"Judging by the shape of the abdomen and Romulan entomology, I would say it is a mutated version of a Centuarian slug," Spock informed us.

I wasn't too pleased with our situation but at least he had some idea of what we were dealing with. Spock added that they were very rare and hazardous creatures that liked to burrow in dark warm places (like humanoid bodies) before "marking" their territory. The slug must have been tampering with Captain Pike's brain system so Nero could get information out of him.

Did I mention how much I _hate_ Romulans?

Bones got straight to the point. "Well, this slug has been secreting toxins into his body and if it continues to do so, all motor functions will shut down and he'll die."

"So get it out," I ordered him.

"I can't Jim." Bones pointed to the screen. "The slug's latched onto tightly to the captain's spine, right here at the base. Too risky to do surgery. If we tried to pry the slug out of him it could trigger a huge wave of toxins that would kill him instantly."

"Can't you kill the slug?" I asked.

"Not without damaging the captain's spine," Bones answered. "And that might cause permanent brain damage altogether."

"Dr. McCoy is right," Spock added. "The Centuarian slug is still very much alive and lethal. It would be unwise to attempt to remove it."

By now I was really losing patience. I couldn't believe after we had stopped Nero from blasting our ship apart or sucking Earth into a black hole he was going to rob us of Captain Pike. I could almost hear him laughing from the underworld, so damn pleased with himself for getting one last triumph out of his insane plan. I was ready to charge into hell and fight him myself but had to keep a head as acting captain.

"Cut Captain Pike open and zap that parasite with a laser," I felt myself snapping at Bones. "That's an order."

"I told you Jim—the laser would zap through Captain Pike as well!" Bones must've also been feeling the heat after a too-long escapade around the galaxy. "There's no solution."

I was wracking my brains for answers. Until now my thought had been "no-lose scenario" but now we had hit a dead end. But Captain Pike was the only reason I had gotten this far, the only person who saw me as something more than a stupid hicktown boy. I wouldn't let him down.

"Spock, any suggestions? I'm all ears," I told him. No pun intended, of course. Spock said he'd have to go consult his biology programs to find out further details about extracting the slug. I said we hadn't much time to spare but I gotta admit, he was being logical and sensible for once to point out that we couldn't just rip the slug out of Captain Pike.

"Gosh, darnit," Bones fumed. "That's too late! We have to get this parasite out of Pike now or he'll go into shock within the hour."

So there we were: the best doctor in the fleet, an acting captain, and a Vulcan who had just survived near annihilation. Our resources, when pitted together, had saved our ship from total destruction and yet we couldn't get a stupid miserable pathetic four-inch slug to budge. You can imagine how lousy I felt at the time.

Suddenly current nurse was forming a solution while the three of us started fighting—correction—_debating_ again.

"Do we have any Damianatus on board?" Nurse Chapel spoke up.

Bones thought she had lost her marbles and Spock also looked surprised at the suggestion. "You wanna inject that awful stuff into Pike's body too? That'll just kill him faster."

"Not for the captain, doctor. Directly into that slug," Chapel explained. "If we can use the microscope scanner to aim and inject the drug _directly_ into the soft underbelly of the parasite it might release its grip on the captain's spine."

It was a suggestion but it made sense. I looked to Spock for a confirmation.

"A heavy concentration of the drug should kill the creature instantaneously without injuring Captain Pike," Spock debated aloud. "Theoretically."

"If we don't operate then he'll die anyway," I pointed out. We were used to taking risks on this voyage so finally Bones consented to perform the necessary task while Saavik located the small vial of Damianatus on board. (Why they have that crap in the medical kit is beyond me. Gaila and I were up puking half the night because of it.)

We all watched McCoy adjust the microscope so he could pinpoint the most sensitive part of the slug according to Spock. Upon his command, Nurse Chapel slid the needle underneath Captain Pike's skin and injected it straight into the slug. We saw it begin to twitch and I dreaded the worst—it was going nuts. But Nurse Chapel just kept her eyes on that slug and injected every last drop of drug into it.

As soon as she finished what she was doing, the slug stopped twitching. "It's dead, Jim," Bones assured me. With just a pair of sonar tongs and some swift medical maneuver, he managed to pry the dead slug off Captain Pike's spine easily and then threw it into an airtight box.

Spock actually wanted to keep the little bugger to examine it. Bones just shoved it at him hastily. "Good riddance," he added.

"Will the captain be all right?" Saavik spoke up.

"He will be," Bones assured us. "Once we clean the rest of the toxins out of his system. He probably won't walk for a while but all his vitals should be operating smoothly with time."

I thought he'd want Nurse Chapel around for the clean-up but Bones instructed me to take her to the bridge. "She's done more than her fair share of work aboard this ship, Jim. Give her a break." I certainly wasn't one to disagree with him and insisted that Nurse Chapel join Spock and I to the bridge.

She started protesting but I could tell she wanted to see the bridge.

We went up there just as Earth was coming into view on the cracked but still-operating view screen. Everyone just stopped and gazed at our home planet. It never looked so good.

Nurse Chapel took a seat next to Uhura and they both started talking lively to each other. I had forgotten they were constantly separated during the voyage what with Uhura on the bridge and Chapel in the sick bay. At least we had those two ladies on board for a code red situation 'cuz I don't know what we'd do without 'em.

"I don't know how happy Starfleet is going to be when they see us again," I admitted aloud. "We probably broke about 100 rules of protocol and conduct today."

"127 Starfleet regulations, to be precise," Spock added. "19 of them were minor infractions."

"It's worth it," Nurse Chapel said over my shoulder. "Just to see Earth again."

I can safely say that we all agreed with her.

A-A-A

_SIX WEEKS LATER:_

The view from the rehabilitation center was not considered an appealing one to most of the patients. Then again, Admiral Christopher Pike was not like the other patients.

He was satisfied to observe the reconstruction of the Golden Gate Bridge from his seated position on the green lawn. With his feet wrapped in a blanket and an old-fashioned paperback novel lying open in his lap, he watched the crew working hard and quickly across the bay to repair what damage had been caused by Nero's drill.

Just a few hours ago he had initiated the ceremony at Starfleet Academy promoting Cadet Kirk to Captain James Tiberius Kirk, reporting for duty aboard the Enterprise. Amidst the thundering applause of his instructors and cheers from his fellow cadets, Kirk had stood tall and proud while accepting his medal of honor for "original thinking".

Christopher Pike was certainly relieved. The Enterprise was going to be in good hands from now on.

A few musical bells chimed announcing the appearance of a visitor, followed by a young woman's voice.

"Admiral Pike?"

She had come a long way since the feeble shy girl from Minnesota a few years ago. With a glowing face and bright eyes, Christine came forward and placed a bouquet of flowers on the table next to him. "I hope your recovery is coming along all right," she said.

"Well enough, thank you." He motioned for her to sit down in the chair next to him. Christine took her seat and folded her hands in her lap. She suspected that the admiral had not asked her to come merely for a social visit but Christine waited for him to initiate the conversation.

"I suppose you're wondering why I wanted to talk to you today," Pike began. Christine nodded. "But before I go further I'd like to know what's on your mind."

Christine pondered his comment for a moment. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, sir. I would never want to disgrace you or your honor."

"Whatever we talk about here is confidential," he assured her. "You can speak freely."

"Very well." Christine drew a lock of hair behind one ear and looked at Pike. "I haven't give it much attention until now. After a terrifying experieince in space you learn to reorganize your priorities. I started thinking about my parents."

"And what do you remember about them?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. Their records were destroyed during the crisis of the virus," Christine admitted. She closed her eyes for a moment. "My father had me transfered to someone who got me to the hospital but I don't know his name. I don't even remember his face."

She opened her eyes. "And then I started thinking about the time you saw me at the Winter Solace. Captain Christopher Pike and Ms. Christine Chapel. They're common enough names but Admiral, I would be grateful if you told me the truth. Are you my father?"

He shook his head at her. "No, I'm not your father, Ms. Chapel. That is the truth, though not all of it entirely."

"I don't understand."

Pike smiled at her. "I have a story to share."

"When I was a young aspiring officer, around Kirk's age, I met a dancer at the Sydney Opera House named Marion Rivers. I courted her for a few weeks, hoping she'd follow me back to San Francisco for good. But Marion didn't accept my offer. She said she was fond of me but said she couldn't make me happy.

"I got quite angry with her. I left Sydney, fuming and vowing never to forgive her for rejecting me. That's where Kirk and I are different: if he was in my shoes he'd laugh it off and move onto the next girl. But I was still so head over heels for Marion. It wasn't until years later when I was commanding my own ship did I see Marion again. I was in Tennessee when my team was referred to a fine town doctor named Albert Chapel. He was Marion's husband and your father."

Christine was being attentive to every word he said.

"Your parents had been married for three years when I arrived in Tennessee. Marion was round as a dumpling and very pregnant with you but never looked so happy in her life. Your father was a frank decent man who loved his wife and gave us the medical assistance we needed. I offered him a position in Starfleet but he declined politely. He wanted to open up his own practice. He liked being his own boss and doing this his own way…not unlike a certain Dr. McCoy we both know," Pike added with a smile.

"I still felt obligated to do something for Marion and her family and managed to put in a good word for Dr. Chapel to jumpstart his career. He thanked me most kindly and promised me that when they had their baby they'd name it after me."

Pike leaned back in his chair.

"We lost touch for a while. Then 15 years ago, the Federation had to send teams in to tackle the Proxi-Atom virus that was sweeping across North America. I received a transmission from Albert Chapel. He said the virus had struck him and his wife and it was too late to save either of them. He begged me to take his daughter away somewhere safe.

"I got the girl to a hospital just in time but was urgently called away for further duty. It must have been the chaos of the disease because so many files and names got mixed up during that terrible time. By the time I managed to get back in touch with the hospital, they told me that Albert and Marion's child had passed away.

Christine's knuckles were white. He went on.

"I guess time makes you forget things. But twelve years later I was in Iowa with new fresh cadets when I caught Jim Kirk in a bar-room fight. He was a brash angry punk with no future whatsoever but so determined to fight that I couldn't let him waste his life away. I knew his father and felt I owed Jim a chance to prove himself. That got me to looking over other candidates in the Midwest."

"At first I thought it was a coincidence but Mrs. Donovan assured me there was no mistake when I pulled up your file: a girl named Christine Chapel had survived the virus and was living in a Sanctuary House. She was a pale little thing but from the moment I saw her skate onto the ice I knew she had Marion's face and Albert's eyes."

Pike saw Christine's eyes begin to brim with tears. He reached over and took her hand. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save them."

"No," she insisted, swallowing the lump in her throat. "You did all that you could for my family."

"But I should've done more for you," Pike insisted. "Starfleet's not for everyone, as you may have noticed. The intensity might have killed you."

"And it didn't,' Christine pointed out. "I've worked so hard to prove myself because I thought I could make it on my own. Now I realize you were the one pulling the strings all this time."

"Don't do that, Christine," Pike insisted firmly when he saw her head drop slightly.

"Don't hang your head down and berate yourself. Don't you recognize how much you've accomplished, Christine? You worked hard to become a suitable officer. You stood up to your judges at a trial and helped our campus avoid a deadly crisis. And McCoy's report regarding your performance aboard the Enterprise's maiden voyage was nothing less than superb."

"You did all of this on your own. Be proud of what you have accomplished, Christine."

"I only wish I could do more," she said at last. "Vulcan is destroyed and so many lives were lost. One nurse can only do so much."

"One person can inspire millions," Pike pointed out. He waved a hand out to the construction around the Golden Gate Bridge. "Do you think one person is building that thing up again? Or is it a team working together, everyone putting the pieces into place? I dare you to name people who made an impact on this world with their inspiration and actions, if you know any at the top of your head."

"Of course I know them," she insisted. "Marie Curie, Marc Chagall, Thomas Edison, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Helen Keller-"

Christine stopped counting names off her fingers. Pike, who now looked very satisfied with her answer.

"I think I'm starting to understand what you mean," she said to him.

For a long minute neither of them spoke.

"You loved my mother," Christine said at last.

"Very much," Pike confessed. "So if you can overlook this cynical old man and his wreckless attitude, I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."

"There's no need for that because there's nothing to forgive," Christine admitted. A tear of grattitude glistened in the corner of her eye. "I've felt more alive than ever since I joined Starfleet. And it's all thanks to you."

Pike reached out with one hand and gently drew his thumb across her brow. The resemblance between Marion Chapel and her daughter was striking.

"I always knew you'd do us some good," he said at last. "I just never knew I'd be the recipient of that goodness. You and Dr. McCoy saved my life aboard the Enterprise. I'm grateful for that and for you."

"You saved my life once many years ago," Christine added. "Why don't we call it even?"

A-A-A

Since the return of the Enterprise all of the officers on board seemed to have become overnight celebrities.

Everyone wanted to get to know the heroic crew that had saved their planet and constantly tried to win their approval. Christine was among the lucky few but despite the sudden promotion of popularity and social approval, she preferred to stay close to her old-time friends. If Janice warned her that throngs of followers were expected to arrive at her dorm room, she'd slip away to the ocean and swim to her heart's content.

Pike informed Christine that the Enterprise crew would be honored at a small foral ceremony in a few days. The reason for the unpretentious invitation was not to attract jealousy of other cadets or show disrespect to the ships lost in the battle.

Nevertheless, he insisted that she be there to attend the ceremony at the T'vol Conservatory along with the rest of the crew. Christine assured the admiral that she'd be there.

But first she had something important to do.

A-A-A

Bachi Ko was mopping up water from the floor of the While Lotus when Christine walked in. Every step she took made a squelching soggy sound on the water-stained carpets.

"Uhura told me what happened here," she said to him. "Are you all right?"

"Well, I'm fine," Bachi admitted as he wiped his bushy face with a handkerchief. "But y'see that crazy drill did some damage to the surrounding buildings including this one. The White Lotus was flooded for almost a month before they let me back in."

He gestured to the soaking lounge that lay in disarray around him. "So if you don't mind my being blunt, I'm in over my head. I've got to make some money fast or else the White Lotus is going down for good."

Christine took a step closer. "A little bird told me that you've got an antique to sell."

Bachi nodded. "I sure do. Would you like to see it?"

Christine nodded. Bachi went into the back room and came out with a large heavy case. "This was one of the few things I got into a watertight container. I'm lucky it's still in good condition," he explained.

She had never seen a harp made on Vulcan before but it was certainly incredible, having been sculpted from honey-colored wood and polished to a bright warm sheen. It was adorned with tiny white stones and engraved with delicate lettering.

"How much did you expect to get from this?" Christine asked.

Bachi shrugged. "Enough to save my lounge. The museum downtown said they'd take it for 30,000 since it's suddenly become a rare commodity."

The numbers were staggering for Christine but she pursued forth.

"What if you had something just as good to sell?" she offered. Before Bachi could respond she had opened up her own valise and taken out the ice skates.

Bachi held one up to the light and watch the gems glitter. "Parthian crystals, my goodness. Are these skates authentic?"

Chrisitine nodded. "A genuine prize from the Winter Solace Competition. They'd go for 30,000 too, wouldn't they?"

"Sure can." But then he noticed the name imprinted on the leather in vision-ink and quickly shook his head. "They've got your name on them, Ms. Chapel. I can't accept your offer."

"They're mine to sell or trade, Bachi," she insisted firmly. "Please me have the harp and you can sell the skates instead. Use the money to fix this place up."

The sincerity in tone made Bachi think it over. "Well, all right," he admitted at last. "If you've sure about it."

"Quite sure," Christine assured him.

With one last longing look at her skates, she sighed inwardly and handed them over to Bachi. Dissapointment was replaced with satisfaction as he put the harp back into its case and carefully handed it to Christine.

"Be careful with the relic," he cautioned her.

"I will," she assured him. "Do you have an errand boy around here?"

"Eric," Bachi called. A lanky teen carrying his solar-board under one arm strolled out of the back door and walked over to Christine. "Eric'll take care of anything you need," Bachi assured her. "I'm going to sell these skates first thing in the morning."

Eric touched the brim of his cap. "What can I do for you, miss?"

She took a credit piece out of her pocket and tapped it twice on the table. "Please deliver this case to Commander Spock at Starfleet Academy at once."

"Sure thing miss," he replied cheerfully, noticing the extra tip she had added on.

"One more thing," Christine added. "If the commander asks where it came from then tell him its an anonymous gift."

A-A-A

_Starfleet Academy Dormitory:_

"That's the problem with a code red situation," Gaila explained to Janice, who was sampling a new lip balm and checking herself in the mirror.

"Starfleet's so busy getting the ships out that they forgot about our 'parking brake'. No wonder our ship couldn't reach warp drive!" Gaila exclaimed. "I dunno enough about engineering but we had barely started the mission when suddenly we had to turn around and head back to Starfleet for repairs. I guess it saved our lives from being blasted to smithereens."

"Same here," Janice added. "I was coughing for days after all that smoke. Who knew the drill could set fire to the east wing?"

"Who knew to evaccuate to the South Sea Gate? "Uhura asked. "At least the city's getting everything back to normal." She was careful to recline sideways in an arm chair so as not to wrinkle her dress.

The girls' relaxing afternoon was interrupted with the door opened up and Christine walked in, humming pleasantly to herself. She was slightly damp and sunburned.

"Where have you been?" Gaila shrieked. "You've got half an hour until the reception!'

"I do?"

Uhura set the book aside and rose from her seat. Christine noticed she was elegantly dressed in a deep purple gown instead of her uniform. Her nails had been manicured, her hair had been let down, and she wore gold hoop earrings.

"Uh oh," Christine muttered, covering her mouth with her hands. "I guess I lost track of time."

Gaila bounced off the bed, followed by Janice. "Emergency evasive," she announced aloud. "Operation Lightning has begun. Lieutenant Uhura, report for duty."

"Yes, ma'am," Uhura smiled good-naturedly. She began rummaging through the cosmetics box while Janice was ushered Christine into the bathroom. Within minutes shriekds were heard from the bathroom. "Ow! OW!" Christine shouted. "I can scrub my own hair, Janice!"

While Janice was running Christine through a speedy shower, Gaila was unwrapping paper sheets from a recent purchase bag. She took out a mass of gauzy material that rustled gently in her arms.

"Is it supposed to glow like that?" Uhura asked. Gaila just held it up to the light and Uhura's face altered into one of amazement. Impressed, she let two fingers slide through the soft material.

"Apripo Fashion in New York City says it's their limited autumn line," Gaila chatted on. "Did you hear the news? Mr. Apripo recently married his executive secretary, Buru Noir."

Janice's head stuck out of the bathroom. "You're joking!" she exclaimed while ushering the newly-scrubbed Christine back into the bedroom.

"Nope. Read the headlines," Uhura insisted. She turned on the monitor screen and pointed to a flickering article. "Thomas Apripo married Beru Noir, social butterfly of Centari Moon. They're running the business together now."

"Fine with me so long as she doesn't set foot back in Starfleet," Gaila remarked.

Janice had already yanked a brush through Christine's hair before adding some finishing touches. The manicure-machine fixed Christine's chipped nails, which had taken a harsh beating in the Enterprise after constant rounds of disinfecting and tearing bandages. At least now her fingers were clean and soft again.

"Here's your dress," Gaila announced, handing her purchase to Christine. The light material was a shade of powder-blue and covered in a thin film of gauzy silver fabric. She helped Christine zip it up and watched her twirl around in delight. The dress made a delicious rustling sound when she moved.

"We'd better go before Admirak Pike changes his mind," Uhura smirked.

A-A-A

Jonathan Ben-Lachi had recovered from his wounds and was in the conservatory waiting for the rest of his friends to arrive. Two women in particular caught his attention: the stylish Uhura in amethyst robes and blue-eyed Christine in a silvery dress.

They were walking arm in arm and laughing together until Jim Kirk approached them. He straightened up in his captain's uniform and snapped off a sharp salute. "Lieutenant Uhura, Nurse Chapel," he announced. "Would you do me the honor of letting me escort you two lovely ladies into the main hall?"

"We'd be delighted," Uhura answered him. Christine was relieved to see them on speaking terms as she linked one arm with the captain and watched Uhura take the other. A Jim Kirk of some time ago would have gloated all the way into the main room to be seen with two such pretty girls. But a trialing experience can bring out maturity from within a person.

So it was no wonder to Admiral Pike when he saw Captain Kirk walk into the next room with both ladies. The captain's face showed the uttermost dignity and charm.

Pike waited for everyone to be assembled before starting his speech. While he was still confined to the auto-chair his presence still had a tremendous impact on everyone in the room. Christine noticed that behind the admiral was a table stacked with many glittering objects made of precious metals and stones. There were several velvet boxes as well.

"Several days ago we honored a distinguished member of our services who saved countless lives in the face of danger. That man is Captain James T. Kirk." A round of applause followed Pike's words but he raised a hand for silence.

"But I speak on behalf of the entire Academy when I say that these achievements could not have been done alone. Together with perseverance and teamwork you saved this planet from destruction. We honor each and every one of your tonight for loyalty to your duties, your fellow officers, and to the great causes that we strive for."

More applause followed until Admiral Pike beckoned a hand out to Sulu.

"Helmsan Hikaru Sulu, please come forward."

Christine watched the helmsman walk up to the admiral. Still reclining in his seat but in full command, Pike picked up a box from the table and opened it up revealing a round gold compact inlaid with red and blue enamel.

"In recognition of your actions in the face of combat duty, we honor you with this authentic Italian compass."

Sulu beamed with delight. He accepted the box from the admiral and saluted while everyone else applauded.

"Ensign Pavel Chekov," Pike announced next.

Chekov gulped and straightened his collar before approaching Pike.

"For your ideal thinking in tactics and battle planning," Pike nodded to the young man. This time the gift took two hands to carry it as Pike passed Chekov a long leather cylinder. Chekov's hands trembled when he opened it up and found inside a handmade brass telescope complete with classic 19th century gears and dials.

"Oh thank you so wery wery much," he said with a deep bow before returning to his position.

Uhura received a silver ring studded with rubies. "For unmatched skills in xenolinguistics and being an inspiration to us all," Pike said. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Uhura."

More badges and presents followed. Christine recognized Jonathan Ben-Lachi who received a medal of courage for saving three lives during the Romulan attack. Scotty was awarded with the bronze cast of 20th century aircraft and set in a chunk of black marble. Christine didn't know much about the model but she presumed it had great significance to the engineer who kept saying, "Thank ye admiral," and bobbing his head up and down.

A few more officers were called forward, including Commander Spock. "For analytical thinking in a time of crisis," Pike nodded to him as he pinned a brilliant silver badge to Spock's jacket.

While Spock remained stoic as ever, his expression suggested a more reserved attitude. He did not seem to bask in the recognition given to him, only acknowledging his gratitude to his superior officers by saluting appropriately to the admiral and—much to her surprise—stopping to salute to Captain Kirk.

_He's been humbled_, she realized to herself. Perhaps the presence of Sarek and Saavik at the ceremony had something to do with it. She watched him give a brief nod of respect to his father and fellow kin as he walked back to rejoin the rest of the Enterprise crew. For a brief moment Spock cast a quick but noticeable glance at Christine, who wondered if he had gotten his "anonymous" package.

"This had better end soon," Dr. McCoy suddenly muttered under his breath to her left. Christine couldn't help but smile at his usual cantankerous attitude. It meant things were back to normal.

"I'm sure it's just protocol," she assured him in a whisper.

"Hmmph," McCoy grunted, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, I hope to hell they don't try to honor me. I'm just a man doing my job. Doctors don't need puffing up. I don't want any of this pomp and circumstance—"

"Dr. Leonard McCoy," came the remark on cue.

"What'd I tell you?" McCoy grumbled. Nevertheless, he walked up to Pike and saluted smartly. Pike was holding a blue wooden box.

"Your tireless effort to save the lives of your crewmen has not gone unnoticed. We would be honored if you would accept this handmade Swiss watch as a token of our esteem to the Enterprise's chief medical officer."

Christine saw a glimmer of silver from inside the box before Pike placed the pocketwatch in McCoy's hand. The doctor had become quiet and bewildered at the sight of the gift. She made extra sure to clap loud enough again but Jim Kirk was applauding first before everyone else did for Dr. McCoy.

"Well, I dunno about that," Dr. McCoy admitted feebly when he stood by Christine again and fingered the silver chain. She could tell he was rather taken aback. "But this here's a fine watch. They don't make 'em like they used to."

She glanced over his shoulder to see a Latin message engraved on the cover.

"_Estote Parati_?" she read aloud.

"It means '_be prepared'_," McCoy explained.

"Nurse Christine Chapel," he said aloud. And just like hearing her name called at the boarding dock, she approached with a mixture of shock and amazement.

The box for Christine was made of blue velvet. Opening it up revealed a gold medallion surrounded with a silver braid. The front of the medallion had been engraved with the Starfleet symbol and fused with three bright diamonds.

He motioned for her to come forward. "This medallion is to acknowledge your selfless actions and noble concern for the lives of others in the face of an overwhelming obstacle. Thank you, Nurse Chapel."

As Christine bent her had forward and felt Pike place the smooth shining chain around her neck, she hoped she had made her parents proud. One of her hands covered the medallion, a thumb rubbing over the smooth surface to insure herself that this wasn't a dream. She meant to salute to him but Pike extended a calloused palm that she accepted in a quick but vigorous handshake.

After Pike concluding the ceremony, the officers mingled among themselves and complimented one another on their gifts. Everyone felt a deep sense of awe and admiration for one another, Christine noticed. Nobody took the honor for themselves; they all knew who it really belonged to.

Christine broke away from talking to Jonathan long enough to approach Sarek and Saavik and thank them for all of their help during the journey. Sarek did not speak with great animation like so many others in the room but his grave eyes spoke enough to Christine. She could tell he was proud of his son.

"Where will you go from here?" Christine asked him.

"I want to enlist in Starfleet," Saavik announced.

Sarek glanced down at the small girl. "Regulation cites that you must be at least sixteen years old to enroll in the academy. In the meantime you would do best to advance your studies on the colony."

Saavik did not exactly pout but Christine noticed a slight protrusion of her lower lip marking her dissatisfaction at the news. Christine felt a laugh coming on. "We'll be in touch, Saavik. I promise I'll send you transmissions every week."

Saavik looked hopeful. "Is that your word?"

"Yes, it is my word. And before you go I have something for you." Christine went to fetch the parting gift she had left in the foyer: a single pink rose in a clay pot. Christine wasn't completely certain about the climate of the new colony but it couldn't hurt for Saavik to take the flower back with her. And if Vulcans were as persistent in botany as other fields of science, she suspected they'd find a way to make more flowers bloom in the desert.

Saavik's surprise was thinly veiled by Vulcan courtesy as she receive it with outstretched hands from Christine, the faintest of smiles upon her lips. She tucked the pot tucked carefully under one arm while the other was raised up to Christine, the fingers spread apart in a V-shaped symbol.

"Live long and prosper, Christine Chapel," Saavik announced.

It took Christine's fingers a few seconds to repeat the gesture but nevertheless she managed to match the gesture of Saavik and Sarek. They lowered their hands and turned to leave the conservatory.

A while later, Christine recognized the itchy feeling that tingled in her feet. _Time for a walk on the beach_, she thought. Quietly she managed to slip out of the crowd and started going up the staircase leading outside.

Christine had almost finished the steps elderly man standing on the landing. She gave him a polite nod and would have walked on further had he not spoken.

"Christine," he said. The voice had an unusual tone to it, worn the efforts of time but firm and warm on her ears as if he had said her name before.

She turned around to face the Vulcan. He looked even older than Sarek. And yet something familiar and good-natured in his eyes was familiar.

"Do we know each other?" she asked..

He did not answer but the glimmer of a smile tweaked in one corner of his mouth. "I hope," he said slowly, "That you remember to make plomeek soup from time to time."

If it was a joke then it was lost on Christine's ears. "I can make soup when needed to," she admitted. "Why did you say that? Who are you?"

"A friend," he said at last. She could not comprehend his elusive nature and yet looking at him she felt something stir inside.

"Well," she said as she smoothed out her dress and felt a smile coming on. "I can always use another friend."

Wishing him a good night, Christine opened the door and walked out into the starry night, unaware of the steady gaze of deep brown eyes that followed her on the way out.

A-A-A

It was not logical for Spock to receive a badge from an officer that he was obligated to serve but nevertheless, he had accepted it. At least the ceremony had been in fact small and tasteful, just as Admiral Pike had assured him.

He was still persistent as ever to prove himself. But at least for now the demons that plagued his soul were gone. The memory of Amanda Grayson lingered in his mind but he resolved to use the most of his life to honor everything his mother cherished.

Inwardly, Spock acknowledged that the ocean had a tranquil effect on others. He found himself walking along the beach, his boots sinking in softly into the sand while the waves made a murmuring sound in his ears. All this water, in contrast to Vulcan's desert world, made Earth just as unique and special as his mother had promised him.

Only now had he decided to advantage of it.

While other students had frolicked on the beach and swam in the waters, Spock had remained locked in his studies and work. Now as he continued his smooth pleasant stroll and felt the warm night air ruffle through his hair, he wondered what he had been missing.

Someone else was walking on the beach. She wasn't exactly parallel to him and he knew they would intersect if they went along their continued courses.

Christine Chapel stopped in her tracks when she realized Spock was no more than a few yards from her. She was still wearing her dress but had removed her shoes so her feet could wiggle in the sand dreely.

Spock's uniform had been replaced with a traditional Vulcan tunic and cloak and he had a satchel slung over one shoulder. Christine thought the flowing grace of the long cloak suited his tall frame much better than the restrictive jacket he had just worn an hour ago.

She glanced aside shyly but seeing he would not avoid her, finally looked him in the eye.

"Ms. Chapel," he said. "It is fortunate that I was able to find you out at this hour."

Christine waved a hand out to the ocean. "A night walk on the beach can be soothing. I like to listen to the ocean before I go to sleep."

"Indeed." His gaze shifted to the pendant she wore around her neck. "Did you not read the inscription?" he asked her.

"Inscription?" Christine's hand came to her necklace to examine it closer. "No, I-" Upon the touch of her hand, the medallion sprang open revealing two sides of a locket. Inside was a Latin inscription not unlike the one on Dr. McCoy's watch.

"_Possnut que-equai," _she tried to read aloud.

_Possnut quai pose vindentur_," Spock said.

"What does it mean?"

"Roughly translated it says, '_They can because they think they can_."

Christine turned the message over in her mouth. "How inspirational." She looked back at Spock. "It is a coincidence that we met each other on the beach?"

"A coincidence, or only practical because your friend Ms. Rand said you walk here often. I have something to show you." Spock reached into his satchel and took out the harp. He held it in both hands with careful expertise.

Christine exhaled deeply.

"This is a very rare commodity," Spock said at last.

"Do you like it?" Christine asked timidly.

Instead of answering her question, Spock sat down on an old wooden bench and gestured for her to do as well. Realizing by now that there was no animosity or disdain from the Vulcan, Christine sat next to him.

She watched him place the harp in his lap and lean it against his chest. His eyes closed and his fingers touched the strings. As Spock's tapering fingertips deftly ran across the harp, an ethereal flicker of music came out of the instrument. The notes came slowly but persistently until she heard a gentle symphony streaming from the harp. She sat on the bench for several minutes, completely enraputed by the music.

"That was beautiful," she said at last when he completed his piece.

"Since you were the benefactor of this harp I thought you should be first to hear it."

"I'm honored," Christine admitted genuinely.

As surprised as the encounter had been, nothing could prepare Christine for what came next. Spock drew a wrapped bundle out of the satchel and handed it to Christine. She unwrapped the blanket and found a pair of skates.

"As much as I appreciate your gesture, I do not think it is necessary for you to sacrifice personal items to satisfy my needs," he said. "Therefore I am returning these to you."

"I don't understand," she murmured as she ran a hand over the ice skates.

"Mr. Ko required credits over any articles of value," Spock explained. "I convinced him it would be logical if he let me redeem the skates for a substantial monetary sum."

"You paid to get my skates back?" Christine was numbed at Spock's gesture.

"You were not the only one who received a token of gratitude from the Casparus factory," he informed her. "Financial compensation convinced Mr. Ko to sell the skates to me so that he can restore his business. It should be fully operational at the end of the month."

"I'm glad to hear it," Christine smiled, running a finger along the curve of her skates.

"Do you always receive such satisfaction from the successes of others?" Spock inquired.

She hesitated before speaking again. "It depends on how close I am to someone. But I'm especially happy to hear good news from my friends."

"Then as a fellow member of the Enterprise crew I must ask," Spock's voice softened as he chose his words carefully. "If you think we are capable of setting aside previous arguments and have the potential to become friends."

The long silence that followed could not be deciphered by Spock. He had several ideas of what the young nurse was thinking but was unable to predict which one she would say.

"It's not impossible. But you have a lot of power inside of you, Mr. Spock, perhaps more than you realize," she confessed at last. "I saw how Kirk made you lose your temper on board the ship. It worries me at times when I think how much of it is brewing under the surface even if you don't tell everyone."

"Would it surprise you," Spock said slowly. "If I told you that Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestor?"

She had to digest the new piece of information, "I suppose not," Christine admitted. "You're both determined to get what you want even if you use different methods." She paused and added, "I'm glad the Vulcans are our allies."

A human would have answered with a brief chuckle. Spock had another piece of information to share.

"On Vulcan my peers considered me inferior because of my birthright. I never wanted to stoop to their level and so I retreated into my studies, forcing myself to rise above everyone's expectations. But in doing so I became proud. I neglected the teachings of my mentors and the advice of my parents.

"Upon arriving at Starfleet I hoped to earn a respectable place among the other cadets. But my pride continued to separate me from socializing or recognizing kindred spirits. I preferred success and perfection to the friendship of most people, considering myself superior because of my Vulcan intelligence.

He hesitated. "And I have paid the price for my insolence."

"You mustn't blame yourself," she insisted gently. "Your errors are in the past. And you have many good qualities within you, Spock. We couldn't have performed the mission without you or Jim Kirk. And besides, you both make a good team," Christine added.

"You were not unwise to speak out against me. I have been accustomed to a firm and considerate hand under my parents but seldom kept my pride in check. Perhaps now I will be wiser in the future."

Spock turned to face her. "Will you help me, Ms. Chapel?"

She was surprised. "Help you? How?"

"Your empathy for others offers strength and solace. I have known that medicine can heal a patient's physical ailments but now have come to realise the importance of emotional healing."

"I can't teach compassion to anyone," Christine admitted. "There's no manual for reading someone's heart. It comes by constant action and communication."

"Then I will learn to listen," Spock concluded. "And learn by example if you will permit me."

"Of course I will," Christine agreed.

They rose to leave. "I hope that we will become good friends, Mr. Spock," she added with a hint of optimism in her voice. "And perhaps we may learn more about each other in the future."

"I agree." A moment of silent respect came between them as they allowed the words of their conversation to sink in.

Spock picked up his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. "Good night, Ms. Chapel."

"My name is Christine," she reminded him with a slight smile. "Feel free to use it."

He nodded knowingly. "Thank you, Christine."

"You're welcome, Mr. Spock. And good night."

Spock walked off in one direction, his footsteps even and his pace steady even on the ripples of the sand.

But in the other direction, Christine had felt a surge of energy come and broken out into a vigorous run across the beach.

The future lay before her like the nighttime sky, clear and sparkling with wonderful opportunities that she couldn't wait to meet.

END

_"In our life there is a single color, as on an artist's palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love."_

_-Marc Chagall_

_A-A-A_

Author's note: Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers for your ongoing and generous support. I hope you have enjoyed reading Christine's story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Some of you requested a "shipping" story but in the end, I have decided to leave Christine's future (and her romance) up for you to decide.


End file.
